Written in Stone
by Kath
Summary: Travelling the world, travelling time. *COMPLETE* Yep, that's right. Finished, Done and dusted, Enjoy!
1. Default Chapter

Author; Kandie  
Title; Written in Stone  
Fandom; Relic Hunter  
Rating; PG  
Disclaimer; Any characters that you recognise belong to Firestone & Co. There may be Fire works in there as well. Anything else is either historically inaccurate or my own invention (sometimes that's the same thing!) Story remains the property of the Author.   
Author's Note; Please excuse the wholesale blending of historical fact with fiction. Unless you're working for the History Channel, I think you should be allowed a little historical inexactitude. Having said that, I have tried to be as accurate as possible with dates and major events, just don't use any of it in a history essay!  
______________________________________________________________________________  
  
Rain. Heavy, bleak and unending.  
  
Professor Sydney Fox was eternally grateful that she was inside the comparative warmth of the airport terminal. She tapped one gloved finger against the handle of her suitcase, resisted the urge to call up her assistant to berate him for not being on time, and stared out through the concourse window at the ever-growing line of disgruntled airline passengers, all waiting for taxis.  
  
"Nigel," she muttered under her breath, "If you have forgotten that you invited me to this godforsaken place, I will personally remove your entrails and display them from the first cab that picks me up."  
  
Ritual sacrifice was avoided as Sydney spied the diffident progress of her erstwhile companion. She had to grin as Nigel expertly circumnavigated a clutch of blue-rinsed matrons, only to be comprehensively defeated by an airport baggage-handler's trolley. By the time Sydney had picked up her luggage, Nigel had reached her, puffing slightly from having to run around in front of the slow moving cart.  
  
"Syd, Welcome to sunny Ardonen!"  
  
Sydney glanced pointedly towards the glass.  
  
Nigel shrugged and took the suitcase from her. "Okay, not so sunny." He could not help noticing Sydney's dubious expression. "Syd, come on." he wheedled. "We've been in deserts, rainforests, quicksand?" Sydney still looked unconvinced. "What's a little unseasonable weather to us?"  
  
At last Nigel got a response. "Difference is, Nigel, I was expecting the deserts and the rainforest." Sydney had the grace to look embarrassed as she continued, "If not the quicksand. Remind me again why we are here?"  
  
Nigel's face lit up with an enthusiasm that neither the weather, nor Sydney's scepticism could dissipate. "The discovery of the Discoverer." he breathed.  
  
"Nice." Sydney smiled. She shook her long hair. "Okay, Sherlock. You think you've found the ultimate relic. The "key to all wisdom", the "light within the dark"..."  
  
Nigel ushered Sydney forward towards the revolving doors. "That's right." he said smugly, and stepped in. Sydney opened her mouth to retort, but Nigel was already through. Gritting her teeth, Sydney followed. Nigel was waiting for her under the protective shroud of the awning. Sydney was not about to give up.  
  
"You think the Discoverer is here?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"In Scotland?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"In Ardonen?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"In the rain?"  
  
Nigel grinned, flourishing a telescopic umbrella which he shook into blossoming and held it over both of them in the dash to his rented car. "Yes, Syd. It's here!"  
  
***  
  
Two hours later it was a very deflated Nigel Bailey who passed a mug of coffee to the Professor. Sydney toed off her shoes, sank back into the plush chair and closed her eyes.  
  
"I'm most awfully sorry, Sydney."  
  
Sydney knew that tone all too well. She'd heard it in her mind countless times before. It was the sound of failure. But she'd never heard it from Nigel. When she'd been at her lowest ebb, whenever it had looked as if there was no escape, even when Nigel himself had been scared witless, still she'd never heard such defeat in his voice.  
  
"Sorry for what?" Sydney spoke briskly, although she still clung to the comfort of the armchair.  
  
"For all this." Nigel's arm swept the room, passing over the piles of open books, the stray pieces of paper, the maps pinned haphazardly to the walls. "You're right. The Discoverer does not exist. It's a pipe dream."  
  
"I never said that." Sydney declared, struggling upright. "I said you should reconsider..."  
  
"Reconsider its existence!"  
  
"Reconsider its beginnings..."  
  
Nigel looked at his friend. "Really?"  
  
"Yes, really." Sydney took a fortifying gulp of her coffee. She picked up a pen and tossed it to Nigel. "Let's get some fresh paper on that thing," she gestured towards a listing flip-chart, "and go over what you've discovered."  
  
Nigel hurriedly straightened the board and unearthed a fresh pad of paper while Sydney paged through a very dog-eared notebook. Sydney looked up to check that Nigel was ready and collected a nod.  
  
"Okay, check me on this. You first got interested in the Discoverer when you were helping to catalogue some artefacts found on St Helen's Island." Sydney raised an eyebrow in enquiry.  
  
Nigel nodded and wrote "Napoleon Boneparte" in the centre of the paper. As he spoke Sydney was relieved to hear some enthusiasm creeping back into his tone. "That's right. During some restoration work on St Bartholomew's Church on the island the workmen found a chest. When they opened it up all they found were some papers. They thought they were worthless, but luckily one of the priests intervened before they could throw it on the fire. When he started to translate the papers he found that they had been written by Napoleon Boneparte." Nigel tapped the name on the board.  
  
"St Helen's was Napoleon's final prison, correct?"  
  
"Correct. He died there in 1821, possibly poisoned, although it's never been conclusively proved."  
  
"And it was this priest that wrote to you?"  
  
"Yes. Father Mulcachy was the chaplain when I was at Oxford. We shared a mutual interest in history. He thought I might be interested in this new information."  
  
"And when you went through the papers for yourself?"  
  
"It was amazing, Syd! To be holding the paper that Napoleon himself had written on! I mean we've seen, touched countless ancient relics. But they don't give you a glimpse into the mind of the people that made them. Not the way these papers did anyway."  
  
"And what did ol' Boney tell you, Nigel?"  
  
Nigel pursed his lips in disapproval at Sydney's flippant tone, but he turned back to the board and wrote down a few more phrases, talking as he did so. "The papers were loose leaves. They weren't in any particular order and even what was written was very jumbled. They were obviously written in the last few months of Napoleon's life. He was talking about his Russian campaign in one sentence. The Battle of Waterloo in the next. I went through it all, Syd, and three things stood out." Nigel stepped back from the board with a flourish. "He said he had suffered the "Curse of the Discoverer, like so many before him." He said "in forty centuries the Giants kept their secrets of the resting place." And he said "no-one can have the power that I have sought and never found. The Discoverer will lie forever hidden." Fairly explicit wouldn't you say?"  
  
"Are you kidding? "Jumbled" isn't the word for it!"  
  
"Ha ha, Syd. Nevertheless, these references are the most recent references to the Discoverer." Nigel gestured around the room, "I've traced as much of its history as I can."  
  
"Show me again." Sydney demanded.  
  
Nigel shrugged and returned to the flip-chart. "Assuming that Napoleon had possession of the artefact, it begs the question - "Where did he find it?" Well, it took a while, but I think I can answer that. Napoleon was a foot soldier stationed at a garrison fortress called Mont Saint Pierre when the French Revolution broke out in 1789. Now, Mont Saint Pierre has quite a colourful history of its own. It was a Huguenot fortress until it was sacked by Louis XIV's army. The General in charge of the attack wrote in his diary that "this desolate rock has concealed riches beyond even the most ardent dream of avarice." He returned to Paris taking a gift for the King, "the like of which His Majesty assuredly has never seen. May he be generous in his praise." Well, Louis was generous..."  
  
"Hang on, Nigel. You can remember all that, word for word?"  
  
Nigel grinned, "It stays in the memory when you've read it a thousand times. As I was saying, Louis was generous, up to a point. He gave General Bovier the fortress of Mont Saint Pierre, but kept the gift for himself."  
  
"And you think the gift was the Discoverer?"  
  
"That's right." Nigel rummaged around in one of the piles of paper. "Here it is. This is a copy of a work order to Van Erikson's Goldsmiths, based in Paris. See the date? Three days after Bovier returned to Paris. See the seal? That's Louis XIV's personal seal. And look at the instructions - 'To fashion a golden crown with the wings of a swan and the dawn of the sun and to set a diamond in its centre to catch its rays.' Now look at this." Nigel passed over a textbook open at a portrait of Louis XIV.   
  
It was a fairly typical painting for the time. In the background stood a solitary fortress on the top of a hill. In the foreground Louis was perched on his charger, the bodies of slain enemies being trampled under the hooves. Louis held his sword aloft in triumph. And on his head was a gleaming crown with swan's wings on either side, a halo of the sun's rays framing the King's head and a large diamond set in the centre reflecting the light. Nigel tapped the picture excitedly.  
  
"See that? That's Mont Saint Pierre. Louis commissioned this painting in the aftermath of his victory over the Huguenots. And that is the crown he had made incorporating the Discoverer."  
  
"That's supposition, Nigel." said Sydney with a warning note in her voice. "Besides, this is all a matter of public record. If you are right about this every relic hunter from here to Alaska would have picked up on it by now. And you still haven't explained how Napoleon got hold of it."  
  
"Aha! But no other relic hunter had this!" Nigel brandished another piece of paper. "This is a copy of a letter written to the Duke of Burgandy from his cousin, the Marquis of Mont Saint Pierre. It was written in March of 1789. In it he tells the Duke that he had the honour of entertaining King Louis XVI and Queen Marie Antoinette at his home and that they have entrusted him with the protection of a fabulous crown. 'That which His Majesty's grandfather received from mine is now returned to me for safety. I pray that I am worthy of the trust His Majesty has placed in me.' So you see, the crown was returned to Mont Saint Pierre by Louis XVI. A month later the revolution broke out. The King and Queen were imprisoned and their possessions and palaces seized. But the crown was never found. It was never found because it was not in Paris, it was in Mont Saint Pierre. And who else was in Mont Saint Pierre when the revolution came. Your friend and mine, Napoleon Boneparte!"   
  
"Mmn. Why couldn't you just tell me that before?"  
  
"I did," said Nigel sounding hurt. "You didn't believe me."  
  
"All right. I believe you now, okay? So, how did it get to Mont Saint Pierre in the first place?"  
  
"That's the clever bit."  
  
"THE clever bit?"  
  
"Well, one of the clever bits."  
  
***  
  
Outside the hotel a television repair van stood parked under a street lamp. Inside the cargo space of the van the 'engineer' popped his spine and reached for his cigarettes. Not many repair men worked at this time of night, even fewer wore dress trousers with tailored leather jackets. And no legitimate repair man would eavesdrop on a conversation in a hotel room two storeys above him, much less record it. This one was.  
  
Benjamin Troy lit his cigarette and sighed to himself. There was no doubt that Nigel Bailey was an exceptional researcher, tenacious and thorough, but boy, could the man talk! Troy listened closely as the conversation was piped through his earphones and snorted. Bailey was still explaining how he thought the diamond, crystal, whatever it was had reached France. Troy willed Bailey to get to the good stuff soon. He wanted to get the object as soon as possible, get it back to his employer, get paid a hefty sum of cash and spend the next four weeks soaking up the sun to make up for the damp weather he'd had to endure.  
  
While he continued to listen to Sydney and Nigel, Troy paged through his own notes. He had broken into Bailey's hotel room in Paris and Rome to get the information. But why spend hours in dusty libraries when there was someone else to do the boring research? Troy much preferred letting others do the hard work and then swooping in on the goal. It was a more efficient use of his time. Troy matched up the data he had stolen with the conversation above. Yes, Emperor Constantine had sent a valuable object, something he called the 'light within the dark' along with a troupe of monks. The monks had founded a monastery which eventually became known as Mont Saint Pierre.  
  
Troy grimaced a little. His own trip to Mont Saint Pierre had almost become a disaster. He'd lost Bailey in Paris after a mix-up with hotel bookings. Knowing that Nigel would head straight for Mont Saint Pierre Troy had hoped to catch up with him there. He did too, but only after a suspicious security guard had met with a tragic accident.  
  
He continued to flick through the pages as the tapes continued to record. Bailey had managed to convince Sydney that the Discoverer had indeed been sent by Emperor Constantine to France. Now he was trying to convince her that the artefact had been seized by the Romans during the Battle of Mons Graupius and stored in the catacombs of Rome until Constantine unearthed it.  
  
Troy shrugged to himself. Bailey's evidence was fairly compelling. No-one knew the exact location of the battle, but historians were sure that the Romans had advanced into 'Caledonia' where the legionaries faced the massed tribes of the Picts. The Picts were apparently defeated, but still, the Romans had had enough of Pictish warfare and retreated south. They even went so far as to build two massive walls dividing the country - to keep the Picts out and the spoils of war in?  
  
"Stop, Nigel. You've convinced me." Troy sat up straighter in his chair. At last!  
  
***  
  
Sydney and Nigel stared at the flip-chart, now covered in Nigel's meticulous handwriting. Both rubbed their eyes tiredly.  
  
"So, you think that the Discoverer was taken from the Picts by the Romans. You think the Emperor sent it away to stop it from falling into the hands of the barbarians. You think it was hidden by the monks and then the Huguenots until it was presented to Louis XIV who had it made into a crown. You think it was taken back to Mont Saint Pierre when it looked like trouble was brewing in Paris. And you think it was found by Napoleon Boneparte when he was just a lowly private in the army. Does that about sum it up?"  
  
Nigel nodded and covered a yawn with his hand.  
  
Sydney tracked the timeline, noting to herself that the Discoverer had been owned by some very powerful people all over Europe. Nigel had had quite a trek - Paris, Amsterdam, Rome, Vienna, Prague... "Hey, wait a minute! Nigel, have you been to all these places?"  
  
"Of course! It's not easy tracking these records down, Sydney. You know that."  
  
"I do know that. Boy, I sure don't want to be in your shoes when you put your expenses claim in to the Bursar."  
  
Nigel sniffed. "He'll be perfectly fine about it when we bring home the Discoverer."  
  
"I hope you're right. Now spill it. Why are we here in Scotland?"  
  
"Two reasons. One based on hard fact and one that's a bit, erm... fanciful."  
  
"Fanciful first."  
  
"One of the few pieces of evidence that we have about the Picts is from the journals of Tacitus. He mentions a stone so bright that it 'ate the sun'. He says that the Picts rallied to its call and rained death and destruction on all who opposed them. He also says that while the Picts had the stone, they were invincible and that they would always find their way home after victory."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Well, we're right in the middle of Pictish country. If the stone always finds its way home..."  
  
"You're right, too fanciful. What's the reason based on hard fact?"  
  
"In the last months of his life Napoleon suffered from a debilitating illness that no-one could identify or cure as it turned out. One of the last physicians to attend to him was a Doctor Archibald McDonald, native of Ardonen, who returned to his home after Boneparte's death and enjoyed a long, successful and rich life until he was killed in a bizarre coach accident during the spring of 1874.  
  
"Bizarre accident?"  
  
"The coach wheel was apparently struck by lightning on a clear sunny day. It dropped three hundred feet down a gorge. The coachman managed to jump clear, the good doctor wasn't so lucky."  
  
"Yep, pretty bizarre. I doubt if this part of the world has had a clear sunny day in its entire history."  
  
"Sydney." said Nigel reproachfully.  
  
"Nevermind. Where do we start looking for something valuable? His grave? His house?"  
  
"I've already checked his house. We're in it right now."  
  
"The hotel?" Sydney looked around their surroundings with a new respect. "The Doctor certainly had money to burn."  
  
"Like I said, long, successful and rich life. He was also Provost of the town at the time of his death and had commissioned the installation of a strongroom under the Burgh Halls."  
  
***  
  
Bingo! Troy stubbed out yet another cigarette hurriedly and patted his pockets for his keys.  
  
"I like it, Nigel. I like it a lot."  
  
"I thought you might, eventually. We've got an appointment with the Burgh curator in the morning. She's going to take us down to the town vaults."  
  
"Excellent. Maybe this will turn out to be worthwhile after all."  
  
Troy grinned as he shut off his recording equipment. "It will be for me," he whispered. "But not for you!"  
  
***  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2 - See previous for disclaimers...

Chapter 2  
  
The next morning dawned bright and sunny although, from the suspicious glares she was giving the clouds, Sydney had no faith that it would stay that way. She dragged her eyes back to her companion at the breakfast table, but the view was not improved by the sight of Nigel tucking into a "traditional" Scottish breakfast. Sydney delicately smeared some butter on her croissant and remarked lightly, "No wonder you were called 'Podge' as a child."  
  
Nigel frowned, "You promised that you would never utter that name again." Sydney shrugged. "Besides," Nigel continued, "this is traditional, it even said so on the menu. When in Rome and all that. Want to try some?"  
  
Nigel held out a grey coloured substance balanced on a spoon. Sydney eyed it dubiously. "What is it?"  
  
"It's haggis." said Nigel with a mischievous glint in his eye that Sydney knew should not be trusted.  
  
"And what exactly IS haggis?"  
  
"It's an animal native to the Highlands, quite similar to a rabbit actually. They are a protected species now. Very strict hunting laws, but we're in luck. We're right in the middle of the haggis hunting season. Ever heard of the 'Glorious 12th'?"  
  
"I thought that was for pheasant?"  
  
"And haggis. Come on, Syd. Just imagine the weary clansman stalking his prey through the gorse and heather of the Highlands, laying his traps for the cunning beastie. And hurry up, it's getting cold."  
  
Sydney took the spoon and popped the morsel in her mouth, reassuring herself that it could not taste worse than roasted snake. She chewed thoughtfully. Not bad. Not bad at all. Sort of spicy and peppery with a slightly rough texture.  
  
"Well?"  
  
Sydney nodded still chewing.  
  
Nigel grinned. "Actually, I lied. Haggis isn't an animal." Sydney stopped chewing. "See, what you do is take the offal from a cow or a pig, anything you've got really, mix it with oatmeal, stuff it into sheep gut and boil it for a few hours. Delicious isn't it? Those Highlanders certainly got value for money on their animals. Waste not, want not as my mother always said." He happily broke into another piece of haggis.  
  
Sydney swallowed deliberately and pushed away her plate. "I'll wait for you in the car, Nigel."  
  
Nigel gave her a cheery wave as she strode from the dining room. Privately, Sydney promised herself that "Podge" would pay for that, and soon.  
  
***  
  
Sydney had not had a great opportunity to see the town of Ardonen the night before. The drive in from the airport had been through industrial warehouses and dormitory suburbs. Not a very promising location for an ancient relic. But as Nigel drove them down from the hotel, Sydney felt her breath catch at the picturesque scene before her. This was a more conceivable hiding place for a relic.  
  
The old town of Ardonen nestled at the foot of a forbidding rock. Built on its summit was Castle Ardonen which managed to look menacing even with sunlight glinting off its battlements. The town itself started at the base of the rock and continued around the edge of a small bay. Large, sturdily built houses which had once been home to a single family had now been converted to offices, flats, public houses, shops, although the original character of the town had not been destroyed. No neon signs, no garish displays, not even a set of traffic lights. Sydney commented on this to Nigel.  
  
"That's quite an interesting story. Back in the sixties they were renovating the town hall and discovered an old smuggling route, right up through the rock which comes out up there." Nigel gestured up the hill and Sydney craned to see three squat cottages against the hillside. As she watched she saw a car drive past. "The town council decided to widen it and use it as the main route out of the town. Quite a feat of engineering, partly funded by the way, with a substantial donation from the McDonald family. They made it a one way system, so no traffic lights. It's quite a draw for the visitors. This place is a real tourist-trap in the summer."  
  
"You wouldn't know it to look at it now." muttered Sydney. Although she had to admit it was a charming little town. She felt almost sacrilegious, very unusual for a relic hunter, to be driving into this haven in a car. A horse-drawn carriage would have been more appropriate for the cobbled street, not to mention the shock absorbers.  
  
Nigel came up to a branch in the road. "That's the tunnel there." Sydney glanced over to see a yawning opening in the rock, but Nigel turned to the left and parked the car.   
  
Sydney stepped out and took a deep breath of the fresh air, the place was definitely growing on her.  
  
"Hurry up, Syd. We don't want to be late. Mrs Cameron is quite a character."  
  
Sydney joined Nigel and they began to walk towards the town hall. Nigel suddenly stopped and laid a hand on Sydney's arm. "Syd, there's one more thing," he said apologetically. "Don't say anything about being a relic hunter. Mrs Cameron has 'views'."  
  
"Views?"  
  
"She has a real bee in her bonnet about 'preservation', if you know what I mean."  
  
Sydney smiled grimly. "Oh, I see. And she doesn't take kindly to 'looters', am I right?" Nigel nodded. "Well, I'll just have to set her straight won't I?" She moved to march off, but Nigel tightened his grip.  
  
"After she shows us the vault, Syd, please." he entreated.  
  
Sydney tossed her hair. "All right, AFTER we've seen the vault."  
  
They moved off together.  
  
***  
  
Sydney and Nigel had no problem entering the town hall, but neither of them were expecting to be stopped by a policeman.  
  
"Sorry, Madam, Sir, but the Burgh Hall is closed for the moment." The policeman held out his arms barring the way.  
  
"But we have an appointment with Mrs Cameron, the Burgh curator."  
  
"And you are?"  
  
"Nigel Bailey, this is my associate, Professor Sydney Fox."  
  
"Constable Partridge, Ardonen police. I'm afraid Mrs Cameron is unlikely to be seeing any visitors today. She's had quite an upset."  
  
"Is she all right?" asked Sydney.  
  
Before the constable could respond they all heard shrill tones from above. Two figures came into view, one a police sergeant, the other a short, plump woman with a shock of unruly grey hair. As the two made their way down the ornate staircase, the woman's tones moved from high-pitched distress to strident anger...  
  
"... who would do such a thing... no respect these days... close contact with the police... we did everything YOU recommended... appreciate that, but it doesn't excuse... I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR RESOURCES!"  
  
This last was said at a shout. Mrs Cameron suddenly realised that she had an audience, an open-mouthed audience. She straightened her twin-set and turned sweetly to the sergeant.  
  
"Sergeant Paterson, you have been kindness itself in this trying circumstance. I realise that the protection of local historical artefacts is quite likely a low priority considering the large area you have to... administer." Paterson puffed out his chest. "But, I'm sure that you would agree, such wanton vandalism, has its roots in some deeper malaise. The person, or persons who did this were obviously after something." Mrs Cameron paused long enough to flick her glance over to Nigel, she focused again on the police officer, "And that something was cash. I understand that there is a growing, er trade? Is that the current term? In drugs, in the," Mrs Cameron's lip curled in distaste, "new town. Find the people who did this, Sergeant, and you might find other avenues of enquiry?"  
  
Sergeant Paterson tweaked his cap, "Rest assured, ma'am. No stone will be left unturned." He nodded to Partridge and both officers left the scene, doffing their caps.  
  
"She's good." murmured Sydney.  
  
Mrs Cameron whirled to face them. "Indeed I am, dear. I'd be much obliged, Mr Bailey, if you could explain why I have such an eminent relic hunter as Professor Sydney Fox on my doorstep the day after my offices are broken in to."  
  
Sydney and Nigel exchanged glances. Nigel shrank back from Sydney's accusing stare. "I thought you said she had 'views'?" Sydney hissed.  
  
"I do." Mrs Cameron smiled, "I also have excellent hearing. Why don't we continue this in more comfortable surroundings?" she gestured towards an open door.  
  
***  
  
Nothing! Nothing of any use. Nothing of any value. He'd found nothing to sell that would even cover the cost of his tools!   
  
Bailey had been wrong. For the first time, Bailey had been wrong. And it was going to reflect badly on him, he knew it. He slammed his fist into the dashboard in frustration. Then took a deep breath to calm himself. This was not the end of it. The client would simply have to accept that there were hic-cups in every operation.  
  
As if on cue, Troy's mobile rang. Troy took another deep breath and answered the call.  
  
"... I regret, sir, that my associate's assumptions proved unfounded on this occasion. However we do have a new lead..."  
  
Troy held the handset away from his ear as his employer blasted forth with his reply. Even then he could still hear the anger in the man's voice.  
  
"I'm paying you more than enough to sub-contract out to the best, Troy!"   
  
Troy slowly returned the handset to his ear.   
  
"I can assure you..."  
  
"Assure me nothing! Just do what I am paying you to do!" The voice on the other end took an ominous tone. "Because I assure you, Troy. If you and your associate cannot deliver you will both have successful new careers... as fertiliser!" The line went dead.  
  
Troy held the 'phone away from him. He tried to tell himself that he was not afraid. But he knew he'd be lying. He'd had his doubts from the start. But he did want to be rich, and no-one else was prepared to pay his price. It looked as if he was going to have to go back to the drawing board. And, on the bright side, he did have a ready made scapegoat if it all went wrong.  
  
Troy stared coldly at the Burgh Hall before turning the ignition of his car and speeding away through the tunnel.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Written in stone, Chpt3. See previous f...

Chapter 3  
  
***  
  
Mrs Cameron decorously poured out three cups of tea. She passed the cups and saucers over to Sydney and Nigel, pointed to the milk jug and sugar bowl, settled back into the wide-winged leather armchair, blew over the surface of her own cup and remarked, "Quite a morning." She took a grateful sip of her tea.  
  
Nigel was flummoxed. Nor did he mind admitting it to anybody who asked. He'd thought Mrs Cameron a harmless old lady, passionate about her interests and unshakeable in her convictions. But here she was, offering hospitality to people he thought she had despised. However, good manners never went amiss. "Quite." he stuttered.  
  
Mrs Cameron smiled around the bone china of her cup. She took another genteel sip and set the crockery down. "I don't know whether to be angry at you, Mr Bailey, or grateful."  
  
Nigel seized on the more promising term. "Grateful?"  
  
"For bringing a real live relic hunt to my door." Her voice took on a wistful tone. "It's been far too long."  
  
Now Nigel was definitely confused. Automatically he turned to Sydney for an explanation, but he was not reassured by her understanding expression.  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't recognise the voice, at first." Nigel was astounded to hear apology in Sydney's voice.  
  
"That's all right. It's been a long time since I spoke on the lecture circuit."  
  
"But you! Here! It's not exactly happening central is it?"  
  
"Perhaps I fancied a change of pace. And I've found a few projects to keep me busy over the years."  
  
Nigel was looking between the two women in consternation. "Um, excuse me?" But Sydney was in full flow.  
  
"You're not going to tell me you still go out on the hunt."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Not at all," Mrs Cameron laughed. "I've turned my talents to conservation and preservation. In general, I find it a much more rewarding experience."  
  
"Um, ladies?"  
  
"Come on, don't you miss the thrill of the chase?"  
  
"Sometimes, but these old bones are too slow to do much chasing these days."  
  
Nigel gave up, sank back into his chair and passed a hand through his thick hair. "Would someone please tell me what's going on?" he asked plaintively.  
  
Sydney turned to him, "Nigel, Mrs Cameron was a very celebrated relic hunter a few years ago."  
  
Mrs Cameron chuckled. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Professor Fox. It's been more than a few years! My maiden name was Bixby, Mr Bailey."  
  
Nigel frowned, "Bixby, Bixby." His face cleared, "Not Lorraine Bixby?" Mrs Cameron was nodding, "You recovered the Bells of St Thomas Aquinas, and the Sword of Cuchulain and the Pharmakon of Delos." Nigel sat forward. "Gosh!"  
  
"Indeed. I've spent half my life in jungles, ancient mines, muddy fields..." Mrs Cameron gestured out of the window at the sleepy town, "and I felt it was time to settle down and start preserving some of our historical sites in their entirety. Besides, relic hunting is for the young, at least younger people with integrity who don't just sell to the highest bidder. Which leads us to you. What brings you two to my door? Please, don't tell me I've been sitting on an ancient relic for the last thirty years, that would be too embarrassing."  
  
Sydney smiled, "Well, we don't know for sure."  
  
"What a comfort that is!" Mrs Cameron exclaimed.  
  
***  
  
Fresh towels swapped for used in the bathroom. Nothing of any interest in Bailey's shaving kit, a long shot, but you could not be too careful.  
  
Rubbish bins raked through (just discarded notes) and replaced with new bags. Bed cursorily made (what was he, a chambermaid?) only a textbook on one bedside cabinet and a travel alarm clock on the other.  
  
Troy sighed. No particular new insights into the hunt. He photographed the sheet on the flip-chart from the night before in case it came in handy, but it looked as if he was going to need the van again.  
  
Quickly, Troy pushed the cleaning cart out into the corridor and locked the door behind him. He wheeled it back to its companions and disappeared noiselessly down a back stairway.  
  
The chambermaids came out of their locker room finalising arrangements for going out in the evening. They each took a cart and headed down the corridor. One of them stopped outside Nigel Bailey's room. She knocked on the door. "Room Service!" She waited a couple of seconds then used her pass-key to let herself in. She grabbed some fresh towels and headed for the bathroom, frowning when she saw that they had been replaced already. She took the towels back to the cart and then shook out a couple of plastic bags to change the bins. She was even more surprised when she found that they too had been replaced. Shrugging to herself she left the room and locked the door behind her. She'd obviously been working too hard.  
  
***   
  
Mrs Cameron sighed as she offered around the shortbread. "I wish you'd told me this earlier, Mr Bailey. I could have saved you a trip."  
  
"Um, well, when you told me your opinion of people who tracked down relics for monetary gain, I didn't think you'd be very sympathetic to my quest."  
  
Mrs Cameron was apologetic, "I'm sorry, Mr Bailey. I know I can get a trifle... carried away when I start talking about my preservation work, but I want you to know, I would never categorise yourself or Professor Fox with those odious people. You said it yourself, you're on a 'quest'. You don't care about how much the Discoverer is worth."  
  
"The Bursar probably does." muttered Sydney.  
  
"Yes, well. That's what accountants are there for. Let them worry about the expenses. It leaves us able to concentrate on more important matters. Such as, Doctor McDonald, Provost of Ardonen 1870-1874."  
  
"I was so sure he was the link. He was almost the last person to see Boneparte alive."  
  
"A fact that he exploited readily, if local legend is to be believed. He was always willing to tell his stories of the great emperor, especially after a glass of port or three."  
  
"Why did the people elect him as provost then?" asked Sydney.  
  
"There's no election for provost, my dear. At least, not in the sense you mean. Doctor McDonald bought the title, fair and square. He was never short of a bob or two."  
  
"That's suggestive isn't it? How did he make his money unless he had the Discoverer to borrow against? A country doctor would hardly be rich enough to build that great big house, no matter how good a story-teller he was."  
  
"Smuggling, Mr Bailey. I take it you saw our tunnel on the way in?" Nigel nodded. "We believe that the tunnel was started in the mid 1800's, when Doctor McDonald was a lowly councilman, but a very active smuggler. Around here, smuggling was the national sport in the nineteenth century. When the tunnel was discovered and the road plan first mooted the McDonald family was more than happy to contribute. They said, privately I might add, that they wanted to complete their ancestor's 'work'." She smiled indulgently. "A lovely family, very eager to preserve the town's past and promote its future, legally of course."  
  
"And the strongroom? The one Doctor McDonald commissioned." asked Sydney.  
  
Mrs Cameron's face darkened with anger. "Yes, the strongroom. Nothing very remarkable about it, except that it was going to be McDonald's private route to the tunnel. It was never completed. It was also the target of last night's little excitement." There was no mistaking the contempt in Mrs Cameron's voice.  
  
"Did they do much damage?" asked Sydney sympathetically.  
  
"A little is too much!" Mrs Cameron said with heat. She shook her head. "There's nothing there," she said quietly getting a hold on her emotions, "there never has been. The strongroom has an iron door and a fake plaster panel which leads to the tunnel, or would lead to the tunnel. Those old builders had not even finished it. It ends in a solid wall. It's a tourist attraction. Something we show them on the way round. The door was not even locked. Why did they have to..." Mrs Cameron swallowed. "I'll show you." she said determinedly, then consciously tried to lighten her tone, "I did promise Mr Bailey that I would show you the vaults."  
  
***  
  
Mrs Cameron led Sydney and Nigel up the staircase, pointing out notable exhibits on the way.  
  
"That rather grim looking gentleman with the handle-bar moustache is Lord Abernethy, sixth Earl of Ardonen. And next to him we have the fifth earl, and oh, here we have an alabaster bust, hand-crafted in Egypt no less, of the first Earl. Commissioned in a brothel, apparently... Ah, here we are..."  
  
Sydney and Nigel exchanged amused glances as Mrs Cameron threw open the doors to the council chamber.  
  
The doors opened on a high vaulted room. Sydney and Nigel's eyes were drawn to three chairs set in state at the foot of a horse-shoe of seats several rows deep. Mrs Cameron followed their gaze.  
  
"Chairs for the Provost, the Chamberlain - that's the tax-gatherer to you and me - and the Town Crier." Mrs Cameron smiled, "Just in case proceedings got out of hand. Follow me." she beckoned them forward and stopped behind the Provost's chair.   
  
"Well?"  
  
Sydney looked at Lorraine Bixby Cameron. There was a glint in her eye that said she was up to something. Sydney remembered that same glee in Nigel's eyes at breakfast. She sighed and looked around the chamber for inspiration. Mrs Cameron had said she would show them the vault. She'd brought them here...  
  
"Lovely wood," Nigel commented. He was running his hands over the panelling that lined the whole chamber, surreptitiously checking for any raised catches, sunken knot-holes...  
  
"Not even close, Mr Bailey." Mrs Cameron was smiling.  
  
... not the panelling then, something else. Something... Sydney regarded the three chairs. All looked the same from the back. Only... Sydney cocked her head, considering. Mrs Cameron had a proprietary arm flung over the back of the Provost's chair. Sydney grinned and stepped up to her. "Town meetings would be at the same time of day all the time wouldn't they?"  
  
Mrs Cameron shrugged one shoulder. Sydney grinned and squatted down by the Town Crier's chair. She felt around the base and her grin became even wider. "What was it, 11 o'clock? That's a gentlemanly time to do business!" She pulled up the back of the chair and tossed the cotton material over the chair's back. A set of stone steps were revealed.  
  
Mrs Cameron clapped her hands. "Well done, Professor! I thought I had you stumped! For a moment anyway!"  
  
"I don't understand." Nigel glanced around at the opening, Sydney and Mrs Cameron.  
  
Sydney pulled the concealing material back over the chair and waited until it settled. "Look at the shadows, Nigel. Someone PAINTED this backing to make the chair appear solid. And they used the light at 11 o'clock in the morning...  
  
"Because that was when the council meetings started!" Mrs Cameron finished.  
  
"Ingenious." Nigel commented.  
  
"It is rather!" Mrs Cameron swept the material back again. "Shall we?"  
  
***  
  
Sydney counted thirty nine steps on the way down to the strongroom.   
  
Mrs Cameron continued in her diatribe. "What I don't understand is the vandalism. I mean, the Burgh Halls do not hold anything valuable. And the cloth is always left open..." she paused and turned back to the two investigators. "I don't want anyone trying to hack their way through those chairs. They'd do irreparable damage for nothing. But it appears I was too clever for my own good..." She struck a match and held it up to an oil lamp which sputtered rudely before agreeing to light. She unhooked the lamp and held it aloft. "It adds a certain atmosphere for the tourists." she said dryly.  
  
Both Sydney and Nigel had to agree. The wick flickered in the draft that insinuated itself from the stairway, casting weird and wonderful shadows as they moved into what was otherwise a very ordinary room.   
  
As Mrs Cameron had promised, a fake plaster board turned into the rock. Nigel and Sydney were struck, not by the gap in front of them, but by the crude graffiti in luminous spray-paint that adorned the walls. "Oh dear..."  
  
"Yes, Mr Bailey. 'Oh dear' was exactly what I said."  
  
"I doubt that." Sydney scanned the surroundings once more and moved into the aborted tunnel. Nigel gazed at the obscenities... there was something not right about them, apart from the obvious...  
  
"Nigel!"  
  
Nigel edged past Mrs Cameron and entered the dark tunnel. He almost tripped over Sydney. "Here, hold this high." Sydney passed over a pencil torch and worked at a stone in the wall.  
  
"Have you found something?"  
  
"Maybe." Nigel called back.  
  
Sydney freed the last of the stone and blew the resulting dust off, "Maybe, indeed."  
  
***  
  
Sydney, Nigel and Mrs Cameron sat around the coffee table, all three staring at a small iron lock-box. Only six inches long, perhaps three wide, not even an inch deep.  
  
"Well," Nigel sighed, "it's too small to hold the Discoverer, so let's open it."  
  
Mrs Cameron and Sydney exchanged glances, both shrugged, and Sydney turned the front of the box around to face Mrs Cameron. "After you."  
  
"Oh no, after you." Mrs Cameron switched the box front back to Sydney.  
  
"I insist, after you." The box made another 180 degree turn.  
  
"I did not find this artefact, my dear. You should open it." Another turn.  
  
"But it's been here for nearly two hundred years, you should open it." Yet another turn.  
  
Nigel's eyes were glued to the box. He was beginning to get dizzy from all the to-ing and fro-ing. He stopped the box in mid turn, glanced first at Sydney, then Mrs Cameron and said dryly, "How about if a semi-neutral observer opens it?" Before they could argue, Nigel popped open the box. All three strained to see inside.  
  
Papers. Lots of crumpled papers. Nigel, very carefully, extracted them one by one and passed them over to Mrs Cameron.  
  
Mrs Cameron gently smoothed the first one out. "This is fantastic!" Quickly she scanned the writing. "This is McDonald's account's! See; Profit and Loss. Oh my! Look, here is a note about a shipment of brandy seized by custom officers... That would be the 'Merry Holly'! Wrecked off the coast of Ardonen in 1863!" Mrs Cameron bent her head to the papers, almost giddy in her excitement.  
  
Sydney smiled indulgently. "I guess that's it for us then." She and Nigel rose to leave, casting fond glances over to the old woman surrounded by the new discovery.  
  
Out in the hall Nigel shrugged on his coat. "Where do we go from here?"  
  
Sydney continued walking. "Home?" She swept out the doors.  
  
Nigel stopped in shock. Sydney could not mean that they should just give up. She probably meant that they should go back to the hotel, figure out their next move. Nigel nodded to himself, of course that's what Sydney meant.  
  
"Mr Bailey!"  
  
Nigel turned to see Mrs Cameron bustling out of the room they had just left.  
  
"I might have found something of interest, Mr Bailey!" Mrs Cameron handed over one of the sheets of paper from the chest. "Look there." She pointed to a particular passage.  
  
Nigel screwed up his eyes in an effort to bring the faded writing into better focus. " 'If only the Emperor had trusted me more. Perhaps then I would have his treasure. But it was not to be. In some ways it might be for the best. I have no wish to end my days raving as a lunatic, which seems to be the fate of those who would possess this Discoverer.'" Nigel gazed at Mrs Cameron's flushed face. "My God!"  
  
Mrs Cameron patted his arm. "Perhaps your journey was not a complete waste of time, Mr Bailey."  
  
Impulsively, Nigel hugged the old woman. Then he stepped back self-consciously. "Sorry," he stuttered.  
  
Mrs Cameron waved him away. "Get on with you!" but she was smiling. "I wish you every success, Mr Bailey."  
  
Nigel nodded his thanks and hurried for the door.  
  
***  
  
Sydney was waiting by the car, facing out towards the bay, and breathing deeply.  
  
"I'm beginning to like this place, Nigel." she said as she heard Nigel approach.  
  
"Enough to stay on?" Nigel unlocked the car and they sank into the seats.  
  
"Stay on for what? Trail's cold, Nigel."  
  
"Not quite. Mrs Cameron just showed me a part of Dr McDonald's papers. He confirms that Boneparte had the Discoverer, and that McDonald never found it."  
  
"Wow! We really lucked out then didn't we? I come half-way around the world only to find another dead end!" Sydney took a deep breath, she really did not want to do this but she was going to have to if her suspicions were correct. "Face it, Nigel. There is no Discoverer. It's, what did you call it?, a pipe dream." She met Nigel's stupefied expression. "Thanks for the break in the routine, but there's nothing here." Sydney turned and stared resolutely out of the front windscreen. "Let's get back to the hotel and pack."  
  
For a moment it looked as if Nigel was going to argue, then he turned the key in the ignition and drove the car out of the carpark and through the tunnel.  
  
***  
  
Nigel quietly packed up his textbooks and papers. He pulled down the various maps that he'd made and stored them in his duffel bag. He checked the wardrobe to make sure he had not forgotten anything and then turned to the bathroom to pick up the last of his belongings. He grabbed his toothbrush and stuffed it into his toiletry case. Then he paused and looked more closely at the case. Each day, the last thing he used before facing the world was moisturiser, a fact which he kept very much to himself; if Claudia ever found that out she would make his life a living hell, he was sure of it. So why was his cream at the bottom of his shaving kit and not the top?  
  
Thoughtfully, Nigel walked back into the bedroom. Had someone else been in his room? Well of course they had. Room service had changed his towels and emptied the bins and made the bed... very quickly. He took in the rumpled sheets, not what he had come to expect from this establishment...  
  
Nigel sat down on the bed. This was not the first time he had felt uneasy. In Paris he had been sure that his papers had been disturbed. In Rome he had actually seen someone, he'd thought at the time it was a hotel employee, leaving his room. And now this. Nigel glanced around again. Maybe he was being paranoid... Nigel jumped as his door rattled under an insistent knocking. "Who is it?"  
  
"It's Sydney."  
  
Nigel gave one more distrustful glance around the room and crossed to open the door.  
  
"Ready to go?" Sydney breezed in.  
  
"Just about." Nigel scanned the room once more. He picked up his suitcase and followed Sydney out.  
  
"I've got a cab waiting..."  
  
Nigel tuned out Sydney's comments as they made their way through the hotel. He was still distracted as Sydney called for their checks at the reception, and as they loaded the taxi with their luggage.  
  
It wasn't right. In fact, something was wrong. Very wrong. Someone was following him, tracking him. Someone HAD been in his room, he was sure of it. Someone was using him to do the work. How else to explain the break-in at the Burgh Halls? He'd only told Sydney about the Halls and she would never say anything to anyone else. That graffiti! If the graffiti in the strongroom was the work of kids, he was a monkey's uncle. Too high on the wall, too well spelled... Someone was trying to beat them to the Discoverer.   
  
***  
  
Sydney looked over at her companion with concern. Nigel was very quiet, too quiet. Sydney sighed. All she needed was a private place to voice her suspicions. Somewhere that there would be no danger of them being overheard. She'd seen the graffiti in the strongroom, and there was no way that was the work of kids. Which suggested that someone with the same interests as they had been in the room. Sydney knew that Nigel had told no one except her of the strongroom, and so the logical conclusion was that they were being monitored. .  
  
"That'll be £4.53."  
  
The taxi-driver's voice broke through Sydney's thoughts.  
  
"Keep the change." Nigel was out of the car and headed into the airport before Sydney had even blinked.  
  
The cabbie unfurled the ten pound note and scrambled out of the cab. "Cheers, Gov!" he turned to Sydney, "Need a hand there?"  
  
"No thanks." Sydney smiled sweetly and hurried to catch up with Nigel. She found him staring disconsolately at the 'Departures' board. "First plane out of here, right?"   
  
Nigel sighed and turned to face his boss. "No, I'm not leaving."  
  
"Nigel!" Sydney's heart sank.   
  
"Sorry, Syd. I know you think this is a wild goose chase and I won't waste anymore of your time. I'm sorry I called you out here." He looked back to the airport doors then turned to face Sydney again, and Sydney's heart contracted at the pleading expression she saw. "But I truly believe we're on to something here and I can't let go. Please, Syd. Stay a bit longer. A couple of days, that's all I'm asking."  
  
Oh boy. So much for a private chat. Sydney let her breath out. "I have papers to grade." Better make this look good, someone could be watching, "And so do you." she finished sternly.  
  
Nigel gulped. "I know. I suppose you'll have to find a new teaching assistant then." He picked up his suitcase and turned towards the doors, then turned back. "Thanks for everything, Professor." He smiled, wryly, "I won't forget the quicksand!" And he was gone.  
  
Sydney stared after Nigel, letting the crowds of travellers wash around her. She had well and truly underestimated Nigel's committment on this one.   
  
A different movement caught her eye. A lone man, dressed in black, with no luggage, purposefully threading his way through the people in pursuit of her ex-assistant. Sydney smiled grimly. "There you are!" Swiftly she followed him.  
  
***  
  
TBC 


	4. Chpts 4 & 5. Merry Christmas! TwisterJ...

Chapter 4  
  
***  
  
Nigel grabbed the first Taxi he could. He stared determinedly out of the passenger window. This was - what did the self-help books Claudia was so fond of call it? - a defining moment.  
  
He was suddenly, unexpectedly, unemployed.  
  
He was alone in a, somewhat, hostile country.  
  
But he had a mission. And he was not going to be found wanting.  
  
***  
  
Sydney was sure that the man she was following would stay on Nigel's tail. But he did not. Her cab lost his car in an industrial estate. After wracking up a hefty fee, Sydney finally admitted defeat, and asked the bemused driver to take her back to the hotel.  
  
The cabbie shrugged. Tourists were a law unto themselves.  
  
***  
  
Nigel paced his old room (he was very grateful when the manager agreed to extend his stay.)  
  
The maps were back on the walls, the books were looking as if they'd never left. Nigel sighed and slumped down on the bed. He had so much information and yet none of it was getting him any closer to the Discoveror. Tiredly, Nigel passed a hand across his forehead.  
  
"Syd, what if Boneparte never took the Discoveror with him...?" he trailed off as he remembered that Sydney was probably half-way across the Atlantic by now. "So what if Boney never took the Discoveror with him?" he muttered.  
  
***  
  
Troy adjusted the volume on the equipment. Bailey seemed to be talking to himself - a sure sign of madness. But, mad or not, the researcher was his only hope.  
  
He flicked through a couple of files until he came to Sydney Fox's photograph. Now there was the embodiment of the ancient Amazonian warrior. Troy smirked. Impressive or not - Sydney Fox was no longer an issue. She really should have had more faith in her colleague. Troy certainly did.  
  
***  
  
Sydney flicked up the collar of her coat, accumulated raindrops flying outwards from the material. She hunched her shoulders and wrapped the coat even tighter around her body, all the while keeping a close eye on the television repair van parked outside the hotel.  
  
Sydney did not need any further proof that Nigel was on the right lines. The fact that he was being followed, probably had been followed since he started his journey, was more than enough reason for her to stay in the area.   
  
Sydney glanced up as the lights winked out in Nigel's room. She shuddered in the cold and, for one fleeting second, she cursed the moment she'd answered Bailey's excited call.  
  
Then the repair van sped away up the hill.  
  
Sydney nodded to herself and hurried back to her own lodgings.  
  
  
***  
  
An insistent beeping intruded on a very pleasant dream. Nigel's arm, moving independently of his brain, swiped the alarm clock to the floor. His body was still for all of twenty seconds before brain and body came together. He sat up sharply.  
  
"Napoleon left it behind!"  
  
***  
  
"It all sounds very mysterious, Mr Bailey." Mrs Cameron solemnly perused Nigel's notes. Nigel watched her anxiously.   
  
Sometimes Mrs Cameron's breath caught, once her eyebrow quirked, then she snorted to herself. Nigel was beside himself. Would Mrs Cameron dismiss his ideas as quickly as his former employer had?  
  
Mrs Cameron finished reading, shuffled the papers together and turned to look Nigel straight in the face. "What does Professor Fox make of all this?" she asked.  
  
Nigel gulped. "Professor Fox felt that this was a wild goose chase. She's gone home." Nigel's head drooped and he missed the genuine surprise that covered Mrs Cameron's face. The surprise disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.  
  
"Mmn. More fool her." Mrs Cameron spoke briskly and Nigel's head snapped up.  
  
"Do you think..."  
  
"I think that you have done a tremendous job, Mr Bailey." Lorraine Cameron eyed the restless figure, "I think that you are correct. I think that Boneparte left the stone in France. And I think Professor Fox was wrong to leave you without back-up."  
  
Nigel's relief at Mrs Cameron's faith in him was pricked at this mention of Syd. "Oh, no, Mrs Cameron. I didn't get a chance to tell her everything. I should have told her about..."  
  
"She should have realised." Mrs Cameron interrupted.  
  
Nigel swallowed again. Even although he liked Mrs Cameron, thought she was a very formidable person, he could not let her rebuke Sydney, even in absentia. "She has a lot on her mind." he muttered, glancing away.  
  
Mrs Cameron smiled: perhaps there was still hope for this partnership. Clearing her expression, Mrs Cameron tapped Nigel's notes. "Regardless. You have a clear duty to follow your research. To...?"  
  
Nigel shrugged. "The Louvre I suppose. Where else would the conqueror of Europe store his treasures?"  
  
Mrs Cameron nodded. "Where else indeed?"  
  
***   
  
The room was large but there was no overhead lighting. The only illumination came from the myriad of televisions - endlessly changing, each screen flickering.  
  
Elliot Trevaylen sat surrounded by these miracles of modern technology. On one screen a lost Aztec temple, on another an autopsy of an ancient mummy, in China no less! He focused on the one screen that remained static. It showed a crude carving of hundreds of people bowed down before... something. Lightning. The Sun. The Moon. The Discoveror?  
  
Trevaylen smiled gently. Soon. Soon the Discoveror would be his. And all would bow down before him.  
  
***  
  
Nigel and Mrs Cameron shook hands on the steps to the Burgh Halls.  
  
"Good Luck, Mr Bailey."  
  
"Thank you, Mrs Cameron. I'll try not to disappoint." Nigel got into his car and headed up through the tunnel. Mrs Cameron watched him go, a slight smile on her face. Then she noticed a transit van taking off after him. She reached for her mobile phone, ready to warn Nigel that he had company, but her attention was drawn by the sound of another car engine. Surprised, she looked back, just in time to see a Ford Sierra pulling out and following the track of the van. As the car swept past, Mrs Cameron saw the distinctive swish of a certain professor's hair. Briefly, Mrs Cameron raised her hand in salute and turned away once the vehicle had disappeared into the tunnel. Mr Bailey was in safe hands, for now at least.  
  
***  
  
Chapter 5.   
  
  
Sydney cursed inwardly as she dodged past the commuters at Charles de Gaul airport. Sure, they made great cover, but did they have to get in the way so much? She stifled a yelp as she caught her shin on an over-sized suitcase and muttered an apology to the tartan-clad American wielding the offensive weapon.   
  
But the delay had slowed her down too much. By the time she reached the taxi rank both Nigel and his shadow had gone.  
  
Sydney forlornly scanned the queue, kicked her other shin and mentally screamed a very unladylike phrase.  
  
***  
  
Nigel was about to push open the door to the office. Then he snatched his hand back. His days of waltzing into the office by right were over. He did not work here anymore. Nigel swallowed uncomfortably and knocked on the door.  
  
"Come in!"  
  
Nigel took a deep breath and opened the door. "Hi, Claudia."  
  
"Hey, Nigel!" Claudia looked up from her magazine, a welcoming smile flooding her face. "Long time, no see! How ya doin'?"  
  
Nigel's gaze flicked over the piles of correspondence accumulating in various trays on Claudia's desk. Normally he'd raise an eyebrow, make some subtle, and amusing remark about Claudia's suitability for the job - but he'd given up those rights too. "I'm fine, how are you?"  
  
"Terrific! I've got a date with that Physics Professor. You know the one. 6 foot 2, blond hair, eyes you can drown in." Claudia waited for Nigel's customary rebuke but Nigel seemed a little pre-occupied. Claudia shrugged and brandished the magazine, 'Omni', at Nigel. "And I'm going to dazzle him with my knowledge of theoretical physics!"  
  
Nigel smiled tiredly. "Just be yourself, Claudia. It's you he asked out, remember?" he shuffled towards his desk.   
  
Claudia looked at Nigel's back, her mouth opened in an 'O' of surprise. No sarcastic remarks? No jibes? Was Nigel sickening for something? Claudia watched, dumbfounded, as Nigel began packing his books away. Away?  
  
Claudia stood and rounded her desk. "Nigel?" she asked tentatively.  
  
"Yes?" Nigel did not turn round.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Packing."  
  
"Oh." Claudia swallowed. "Why are you packing?" She attempted to grin. "Are we moving offices again?"  
  
Nigel placed the last of his books in the box. He scanned the shelves, then his desk. Nothing left, except... He grinned and hefted the figure. A joke Valentine's present from Syd and Claudia - gaudy, red plastic fertility goddess with far too many eyes than was good for her, and a knowing expression in every one of them. Syd and Claudia had sworn blind that it was HIM! Nigel rubbed his thumb over the top of the figurine's head. When they had given it to him, he had been torn between being absolutely insulted and collapsing in giggles. Insulted had won at first. Now, Nigel smiled and gently placed the figurine in the box. "I'll miss you guys." He hefted the box and went to leave the room. Claudia blocked his way.  
  
"What d'you mean? You'll miss us?"  
  
"I quit." Nigel said, simply.  
  
Claudia snorted. "Yeah, right."  
  
"Right." Nigel nodded.  
  
Claudia unconsciously took a step back. "What?" she asked faintly.  
  
"I quit. Tendered my resignation. Gave notice. Handed in my jotters. Quit."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I'd like to leave with some dignity now." Nigel's knees were starting to buckle under the weight of his box.  
  
"Of course." Claudia stepped aside, still in shock. Nigel staggered past her into the corridor.  
  
Claudia looked around the office. The vast majority of it looked no different. It was only one, bare desk that made the rest of it look shabby.  
  
"Nigel!" Claudia practically screamed and ran out into the corridor.   
  
Nigel had already commandeered a library trolley to balance his possessions on. He whirled around in surprise when he heard Claudia's voice. And suddenly found his arms full of secretary.  
  
"I don't know what's going on," sobbed Claudia, "but I know it's only temporary. Whatever you and Syd are fighting about, you'll work it out. You always do."  
  
Nigel carefully disengaged Claudia's arms from his neck. "Not this time." Nigel gently held Claudia away from him, then softly kissed her forehead. "Stop selling yourself short, Claudia. You deserve more than that arrogant Physics guy." He stepped away and turned to trundle the trolley down the corridor. "Take care!" he called over his shoulder.  
  
"'Bye!" Claudia sadly waved him off.  
  
***  
  
Syd made her way back to her office. Cold, tired, severely irritated. She was beginning to think she was losing her touch. Not only had she lost Nigel, she'd lost the man following him as well. Both of them had managed to disappear. Nigel had turned a corner, Mystery Man had turned the corner, she'd turned the corner... Nothing, no Nigel, no Mystery Man. So, after scouring the area, she'd returned to the university. She needed to see a friendly face and get some information. In that order.  
  
Syd pushed open the door to the office and stopped.  
  
Claudia was behind her desk, two piles made up of correspondence, essays and memo's towering on each side of her. That was normal. The fact that Claudia was crying... that was not normal.  
  
"Claudia!" Sydney hurried over and sank to her knees beside Claudia's chair. "Oh, Claudia! Don't cry. He's not worth it."  
  
Claudia's head came up in indignation.  
  
"Not worth it!?"  
  
Sydney nodded vigorously. "Sure. They're all the same. He doesn't deserve your tears."  
  
"How can you say that? He was the sweetest, brightest, dearest man that ever came into this university. How can you say he's not worth it?"  
  
"You'll find someone else."  
  
"I don't want someone else!" Claudia snapped. "I can't believe you would either!" Claudia pushed back her chair and stalked to the window. "This is all your fault! If you hadn't..."  
  
"What?" Sydney smiled indulgently. "If I hadn't booked that stripper for his 'Welcome to the University Party'?"  
  
"Uh?" Claudia turned to face Syd. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Sydney leaned back. "Um, Professor Watts? In Physics?"  
  
Claudia frowned. "I'm talking about Nigel. He's gone."  
  
"Ah." Sydney straightened. "Yes, well, these things happen." She stood and, studiously ignoring the cleared desk, she crossed to the computer on her own desk. She pulled out her digital camera and hooked it up to the machine.  
  
"So what are you going to do about it?" Claudia asked belligerently.  
  
Sydney glanced up to Claudia's face. "What d'you think I'm going to do?" Her eyes dropped back to the keyboard. "I'm going to find Nigel. And the person that's following him."  
  
Claudia's eyes widened. "Nigel's being followed? Will he be okay?"  
  
Sydney spared a swift glance at Claudia. "Of course he will." she said with more confidence than she felt. "He'll be just fine. Fearless in the face of danger. That's our Nigel."  
  
Claudia gazed at Sydney steadily. "Uh oh."  
  
"Whatever." Sydney bent back to the computer.  
  
***  
  
Street lamps were igniting all around as Nigel shook hands with the curator of the Louvre on the steps to the museum. "Merci, Monsieur. You have been a great help to my investigations."  
  
Monsieur Le Roc pumped the younger man's hand. "Ah, bien! It is so nice to meet someone so young with such a thirst for the past! Bonne Chance, Monsieur Bailey!"  
  
"Merci beaucoup!" Nigel nodded to the curator and headed down the steps. Le Roc waved his hand in farewell as Nigel disappeared from view.  
  
***  
  
Bailey looked very pleased. VERY pleased. Almost ecstatic. Now was the time to make his presence felt.  
  
***  
  
Nigel hurried through the narrow Paris streets to his car. He'd done it! This time, this time he was sure he'd done it! He still had a way to go, but he was back on track. The Discoveror would not be hidden for much longer. Nigel could just imagine the look on Mrs Cameron's face when he told her. Not to mention Sydney's.  
  
Nigel's steps slowed as he approached his car. He weighed his keys in his hand sadly. Sydney...  
  
Out of nowhere, a rough hand closed about his nose and mouth. Nigel's nose was filled with the sickly-sweet aroma of chloroform. Frantically, he struggled against his assailant, but the fumes seemed to permeate every part of him. Gradually his struggles ceased, the keys he'd been gripping tumbled unheeded from his grasp. Then, the only sound in the deserted street was that of Nigel's shoes bouncing from cobble to cobble.  
  
***  
  
TBC  
  
Merry Christmas, everybody! And best wishes for a successful 2002 for you all! 


	5. Chapter 6 - See Chpt 1 for disclaimers

Chapter 6 - See Disclaimers in Part 1.  
  
Sydney and Claudia watched impatiently as the printer slowly churned out the image of the Mystery Man who had shadowed Nigel. Unfortunately it was not a great picture. Sydney snatched the complete sheet from the printer and held it up to the window with a critical expression on her face. Claudia cocked her head. "Are you sure it's the right way up?" she asked.  
  
***  
  
"... The good work that the Foundation for the Advancement of Young Artists..."  
  
Trevaleyen sipped at the champagne and unconsciously grimaced. Not only was he bored out of his mind at having to attend yet another charity dinner, but even the catering was below standard. What on earth had these people done with his money? Surely he'd given enough that they could have provided a reasonable Dom at least. He schooled his features into a smile as the master of ceremonies raised his hands to lead the applause.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to introduce our benefactor, Mr Elliot Trevaleyen." The applause swelled from the assembled dignitaries. Trevaleyen walked slowly towards the podium, acknowledging the smiles, the nods, the enthusiastic cheering. These parasites had no idea. No concept of his true greatness. They would soon enough.  
  
***  
  
Sydney paced her office, the bleary photograph trailing from her hand.  
  
Claudia eyed her boss worriedly, in between answering calls. Sure; the student deserved an extension on his essay deadline, it was only the fifth time he had needed to go to his grandmother's funeral, this semester. And four the previous semester. How many grandmothers could one guy have? He'd obviously traded deceased relatives for imagination.  
  
Sydney abruptly stopped in the middle of the office. She slapped her hand against her forehead. "We've been going about this the wrong way!"  
  
Claudia hurriedly got rid of the recalcitrant student. "Bass ackwards?"  
  
"Got it in one."  
  
***  
  
Nigel stretched, luxuriously, and allowed a contented sigh to escape. He was so comfortable, so warm... so not where he was meant to be. His eyes snapped open as the previous night's events burst from his memory. Elation, sadness, terror - a typical Friday night in Paris for a relic hunter.   
  
Nigel sat up slowly and surveyed his surroundings. If this was a prison cell it was certainly the most comfortable, well-appointed, richest-looking one he'd ever been in; thick tapestries on the walls, genuine Persian rugs on the floor and original Georgian furniture dotted around the room.  
  
Moving slowly Nigel swung his legs over the edge of the large four-poster bed he'd woken up in. His toe nudged something on the floor. His own shoes, cleaned to such a high polish he could almost see his face in them. Automatically he put them on, straightened and crossed to the imposing windows. He flung open the fine, muslin drapes and looked down on a cobbled courtyard. It looked perfectly normal. So why was he here? More importantly, where was here?  
  
***  
  
Claudia had cleared her desk by the simple expedient of sweeping every piece of paper from it onto a travelling blanket on the floor and then knotting the corners and dumping the resulting bulging sack beside the door. The only response she'd made to Sydney's raised eyebrow had been an ascerbic, "Nothing that can't wait."  
  
Now the two women pored over what little information they had. Item 1; a blurred photograph of someone who may, or may not, have been following Nigel. Item 2; Sydney's hand-written account of everything Nigel had told her up to and including their visit to the Ardonen Burgh Halls. Item 3; a large pile of print-outs. Anything and everything that Claudia had managed to find on the internet about Discoverors, Boneparte, Constantine... the pile of papers listed, dangerously.  
  
"Where are we going wrong?" asked Claudia, plaintively.  
  
Sydney was quiet for a few moments, gathering her thoughts. Finally she pressed down on the sheets printed from the net. "People have been looking for the Discoveror for centuries." she began. "Hard-headed relic hunters like myself thought it was a myth." She smiled mirthlessly, "It was a pipe-dream, a fantasy, our holy grail, if you will." Sydney tapped the side of the papers. "But these people believe in it. And why? Because it has power. It IS power." Sydney stepped away and began to pace again. Claudia watched her with trepidation.  
  
"Everyone who has... acquired the Discoveror has had power, for a while anyway." Sydney was almost whispering. "Power... Constantine. Louis XIV. Louis XVI. Boneparte. Emperors..." She whirled around to face Claudia. "We know that Nigel was being watched, yes?"  
  
Claudia dumbly nodded her head. She was not about to argue.  
  
"So, who would be watching him?" Sydney looked expectantly at Claudia.  
  
"Someone who wants the Discoveror?" said Claudia. Sydney made encouraging motions with her hand. "Someone who is familiar with the legends of the Discoveror?" Sydney kept nodding. "Someone who could afford the time, and money to follow Nigel." Claudia's face suddenly cleared as she followed her train of thought, "Someone who has a lot to gain..." she broke off and hurriedly ferreted through the pile. "Here! It's him! I know it is!" Claudia brandished a sheet of paper at Sydney.  
  
Sydney reached for it, but before she could take it, there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" she barked.  
  
One of the college porters poked his head around the door. "Sorry to bother you, Professor. I was actually looking for Mr Bailey?"  
  
"He's off sick." said Claudia, before Sydney had a chance to respond.  
  
"Oh." The porter nodded. "That would explain it then."  
  
"Explain what?" asked Sydney.  
  
"I've just had the Gendarmes on the phone. Mr Bailey's car is illegally parked in the Rue de Sierre. They've given him an hour to move it, otherwise they'll tow it away. But if he's sick..."  
  
"Don't worry, Jean." The porter's name suddenly came back to Sydney. "We'll take care of it for him. The Rue de Sierre? You're sure?"  
  
Jean doffed his cap, he'd always liked Professor Fox, she was real lady. "That's what the gendarmes said, Professor."   
  
"Thank you, Jean." Sydney nodded and the porter closed the door behind him.  
  
Claudia gazed at Sydney, anxiously. "Nigel would never leave his car illegally parked."  
  
"I know."  
  
"He's in trouble, isn't he?"  
  
"Probably." Sydney looked over the paper Claudia had unearthed.  
  
"What are we going to do about it?"  
  
Sydney looked up and smiled. "First," she searched through a large bundle of keys and handed one of them to Claudia, "you are going to move Nigel's car. Then, we are going to have a quick word with Monsieur Le Roc at the Louvre..."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Sydney sighed. "Of all the museums in this city, which is the closest to the Rue de Sierre?"  
  
"The Louvre."  
  
"Exactly. And then," Sydney's smile became distinctly predatory and she crushed the paper she was holding in her fist, "the hunter will become the hunted."  
  
***  
  
TBC 


	6. Chapter 7 - Sorry it took so long...

Chapter 7 - Brief reminder; I don't own the characters, Firestone do. Firestone might wish that they own the story (if all your feedback is anything to go by, thanks!) but they don't!  
  
***  
  
The door was well and truly locked, there was no avoiding that fact.   
  
Nigel sank down on to the bed and sighed tiredly. He had divided his time between examining the furniture; genuine - and the lock on the door; very locked. The tapestries on the wall; genuine - the hinges of the door; immovable. The carpets and artefacts scattered around the room; all genuine - the wooden door very, very solid.  
  
After several hours Nigel had reached two conclusions. 1. Wherever he was his invisible host had money to burn, and 2. He could not break out of his prison.   
  
Then Nigel heard a scraping as a key turned in the door. Swiftly he stood and squared his shoulders preparing himself to meet his captor.  
  
***  
  
Sydney stared vacantly out of the window. To the outside observer she was looking down at the university quadrangle, but to anyone who knew her she was far away.  
  
Claudia knew Sydney very well. When she had returned from retrieving Nigel's car she'd been loathe to interrupt Sydney's thoughts. But her own worry was just as great as Sydney's and she wanted to be doing something more than car-parking duty.  
  
"Come on, Syd." Gently Claudia laid the print out on the Professor's desk. "Let's get busy."  
  
Sydney's gaze turned to Claudia's voice, but it was a good few seconds before recognition crept in to her eyes. "Let's." she whispered. She shook her shoulders and with that gesture every sign of doubt was gone. Sydney picked up the paper, committing its contents to memory as she asked, "What did Monsieur Le Roc have to say?"  
  
"Nigel was at the Louvre last night, looking through the archives. He left late. And that's the last Le Roc saw of him." Claudia smiled, "He did say that he thought Nigel was a very - persistent, researcher."  
  
Sydney's answering smile was rueful. "Wouldn't leave until he was finished, uh? He did say he wasn't going to give up on this."  
  
"Neither will we." Claudia's voice was soft but full of determination.  
  
"Wouldn't have it any other way." Sydney winked and ushered Claudia from the office.  
  
***  
  
"Mr Bailey. I hope you slept well?"  
  
Nigel's first instincts were to agree, to apologise for being an inconvenience. But then he realised he did not have to.  
  
Summoning his courage Nigel sneered, "Like a drugged log."  
  
Troy smirked. "My apologies. I felt it was necessary. I've been watching you, Mr Bailey." he said archly.  
  
Nigel almost snorted in derision. This man was so full of himself it was a wonder he hadn't burst from his skin already. Nigel flattered himself that he could get along with just about anyone, but this one! Boy, did he need taking down a peg or three.  
  
"Now I recognise you! You had to scurry away when I got back to my room in Rome. You must be losing your touch!"  
  
Annoyance flickered across Troy's face, but only briefly. This was a delicate juncture. He had taken a risk in kidnapping the researcher. He needed to convince Bailey that they were both on the same side. Yes, there were more... medieval methods of persuasion, but Troy subscribed to the 'honey over vinegar' school of thought. Personally he found it more satisfying to see an expression of betrayal in his victims' eyes when he took what he wanted rather than bullying them into submission. So now he nodded slowly, then had to turn his face away in case it betrayed his grin. "Yes, that was a close one. They almost had you."  
  
Some of Nigel's bravado evaporated. "What?"  
  
Troy turned back, his face masked with an appropriate measure of concern. "They almost got you. I was quite concerned for a moment."  
  
"Uh?"  
  
"You know. In Rome. They were trying to break into your room but I managed to scare them away." Troy smiled as Nigel's face took on a bewildered expression. The perfect look of someone who had just had their train of thought derailed. Troy swept his arm aside inviting Nigel to leave the room and continued quickly before Bailey had a chance to start asking questions. "And last night I thought it best to ensure your safety. They were following you again, and I have to say that they did not look friendly. I am sorry that I did not have time to explain my actions. Time was of the essence."  
  
"Following me?" whispered Nigel. "Who's they? Who ARE you?"  
  
"Benjamin Frakes." said Troy easily and held out a hand.   
  
Nigel shook hands dumbly. "Then I guess I should be thanking you, Mr Frakes." he said awkwardly.  
  
Troy waved it away. "Really, Mr Bailey. It was my pleasure. Believe me, I have no wish to see any harm come to you, *yet*, on your quest."  
  
The two men walked down an imposing corridor, thickly carpeted and opulently decorated. If his mind was not whirling with confusion, Nigel was sure he could have appreciated it more. But Nigel seemed to be having a few problems in the brain department. "So you know what I'm looking for?" he insisted. "And you still haven't told me who THEY are."  
  
Troy smiled indulgently. "Indeed. I hope that you will allow me to help you, Mr Bailey." He gestured around the rich decorations. "As you can see, I'm not short of the creature comforts, and I know only too well what a teaching assistant is paid, I used to be one myself, a long time ago." Troy allowed his voice to drop slightly and kept his smile playing around his face as if he was remembering particularly pleasant memories before resuming, "And as for who is following you. I'm sure you've heard the expression, 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'?" Troy glanced at Nigel, but Bailey was deep in thought.  
  
In fact Nigel was deep in a crisis of conscience. It was something he'd never thought about before. It was something he'd never had to think about before. How on earth was he going to fund what he was sure was the last leg of his journey? It had never been a problem before. Expenses claims were a matter of course for the department. The University museum was fast becoming the eighth wonder of the world thanks in no small part to Sydney's and his efforts. The Bursar was usually so busy totting up entrance receipts that he hardly murmured when the claim forms were submitted. But Nigel had given up his expense account, along with his desk, and that lovely view from the window... and his friends. Nigel felt a black cloud of depression on the horizon. He wished Sydney was here...  
  
"Are you all right, Mr Bailey?" Troy put his 'concerned' face on.  
  
Frakes' enquiry brought Nigel back to the present. "Oh, yes, sorry. Just wool-gathering."  
  
Troy nodded in understanding. "Of course. I realise this must have been a shock to you. Come, let us retire to my study, and I can give you my proposal."  
  
***  
  
Sydney's car was parked on a slight rise outside Elliot Trevaylen's 'country cottage'. A high wall surrounded the property. She and Claudia had driven around the perimeter taking about thirty minutes. They had lost count of the number of security cameras they had passed. But they had found that there was only one gate and so Sydney kept her binoculars trained on it.  
  
Claudia sat slumped in the passenger seat. "Are you sure this is where Nigel is?" she asked plaintively.  
  
"You were the one who was so sure that it's Trevaylen we're after." said Sydney, mildly, without dropping her gaze.  
  
"Yeah. But what if I'm wrong?"  
  
"Have a little faith."  
  
***  
  
Frakes' study was as impressive as they rest of the mansion.   
  
Troy settled comfortably into the chair behind the desk and invited Nigel to sit opposite him. He scooted the chair forward and had to swallow his cry of pain when he hit his knees on the desk's underside. He'd forgotten Trevaylen was a good foot shorter than him. Clearing his expression, Troy began; "Now, Mr Bailey. Forgive me, but I feel you are a man of action, so let us get down to business." Without waiting for a response from Nigel, Troy continued, "I propose to fund the rest of your trip until you find the Discoveror, whenever or wherever that may be." He waved his hand away as if Nigel was going to interrupt, but Nigel was too dumbstruck to make even a token protest. "And I am willing to underwrite the cost of your researches to date. I know that the University will be anxious to recover any expenses you have incurred since you have left their employ." Troy proffered a prepared cheque, flattering himself that he had appealed to the most base human instinct - greed.  
  
Nigel slowly reached for the cheque and regarded the total. It was well in excess of what he had already spent. He swallowed nervously.   
  
This was it. This was the moment that he could become a fully fledged 'relic hunter'. An expert for hire. Willing to do anything, go anywhere, for a price.   
  
The cheque blurred in front of his eyes. Snap-shot images paraded through his mind: A hotel basement in Chicago, an innocent man accused. A once glittering coach hidden, a terrible crime concealed...  
  
What did a relic hunter seek? Truth.  
  
Nigel's vision cleared with the self-realisation. He cleared his throat and looked steadily across the desk. "Thank you, Mr Frakes. This... contribution," Nigel nodded towards the scrap of paper, "would be very welcome. However, I would like to make it clear that if we are successful in recovering the artefact, it will be donated, without charge, to the University museum."  
  
*Is he going for sainthood or martyrdom?* Troy smiled reassuringly. "Mr Bailey, you wound me, I have never had any other thought but that the Discoveror should be properly displayed so that all might enjoy its beauty. Come let us seal the bargain with a toast!" Troy swivelled in his chair, being careful of his knees, and poured two shots of whisky.  
  
"If you'll excuse my impertinence, I'd like to have a written agreement?"  
  
Troy was glad that his back was to Bailey because the effort of keeping up the front of the solicitous philanthropist was beginning to wear thin. "Not at all! Of course you may!" Troy turned back with the glasses and raised his own. "To success!"  
  
Nigel acknowledged the toast but only sipped at the drink, wondering if he had just sold his soul to the devil.  
  
TBC - I thought I might finish it in this chapter, but it was not to be. I'm afraid I have to crave your indulgence just a little bit longer... 


	7. Chapter 8 - Building to a fabulous endin...

Chapter 8 - As usual, all familiar characters belong to someone else. I just take them out for a spin every now and then.  
  
***  
  
Claudia had taken over surveillance of the main gates. "This is really boring, Syd." she muttered. "Is it always like this?"  
  
Sydney did not answer. She was turning an envelope over and over in her hands with a fixed expression on her face. She recognised the writing and had guessed what the envelope contained but, perversely, she did not want to open it. Right now she could pretend that Nigel was simply working on his own project. She could almost pretend that he would call any second, voice brimming with enthusiasm, and ask her to meet him so that they could finish the adventure together. But if she opened the letter, actually read the words "resigning my post" that fragile illusion would be shattered.  
  
Suddenly, the gates to the Trevaylen mansion opened, Sydney and Claudia both straightened in their seats. Mere seconds passed before a top of the range Mercedes swept through and disappeared down the wooded road.  
  
Sydney stuffed the envelope out of sight and turned the ignition of her own car setting off in pursuit.  
  
"Was that Nigel?" asked Claudia, tightening her seatbelt.  
  
"Yes." Sydney was relieved that Nigel was unharmed as far as she could tell from that split-second glance, but she had also recognised the driver. "Be careful, Nigel." she whispered quietly.  
  
"Good. So we catch up. You two make up. We find this stone or whatever, and we go home. Right?"  
  
"Right." agreed Sydney. Bark cinders spat from beneath the tyres as Sydney negotiated a particularly tight bend.  
  
Claudia braced her feet against the floor of the car, dug her shoulders into the car seat and reached for the jacket holder above the window. "That's a relief," she muttered breathlessly, "for a second there, I thought you were thinking about taking some needless risk..." Claudia's voice became more high-pitched as they approached another Z-bend. She squeezed her eyes shut.  
  
Sydney guided the car out of the turn and spared a glance at her terrified passenger. "Who me? Never!" She stamped on the accelerator.  
  
***  
  
"Two for London, Heathrow."  
  
Nigel looked around the airport with a jaundiced eye as Frakes bought the tickets for the next stage of their journey. He could admit that, in all honesty, he'd never been so unsure in his life. Angry, yes. Terrified, undoubtedly. But never so... lost. He snorted to himself. Here he was, probably about to make the discovery of the millennium and it was all going wrong. He did not trust Frakes. His story was too glib, too convenient. He'd seen enough con-artists to know when he was being taken for a ride, but for now Nigel had little choice other than go with his new 'ally'. He could almost imagine Sydney's voice telling him to be careful. It was one piece of advice he had every intention of following.  
  
***  
  
"There they are." Claudia pointed enthusiastically.  
  
Sydney sighed and quickly grabbed Claudia's arm, pushing it down. "And we don't want them to see us, so no drawing attention to ourselves."  
  
"Sorry." Claudia muttered. She glanced towards Sydney. "Syd...?"  
  
"Mmn?" Sydney was scanning the concourse looking for trouble. Wherever Benjamin Troy was, grief was sure to be along for the ride. She had picked out two possible accomplices and one definite, before Claudia's question registered. "What did you say?"  
  
Irritation crossed Claudia's face. "I said," she repeated slowly and deliberately, "How do we know where they are going?"  
  
Sydney looked back to the booth Nigel and Troy had just left. "Well, they're flying with 'British Airways', there's only one place they could be going..." her voice trailed off as she saw the board above the cashier's head; flights to Dusseldorf, Barcelona, Naples, London. "Oops."  
  
"Oops? What's 'Oops'?"  
  
"A miscalculation." Sydney watched the man she was sure was with Troy. He did not seem to be in any hurry to get on a plane.  
  
"Right then." Claudia stood up straight. "We don't have time for any 'miscalculations'." She marched off towards the ticket stand.  
  
"Claudia!" Sydney hissed, but the secretary ignored her. Sydney took a step forwards, then thought better of it. She had recognised Troy, she was fairly sure she recognised one of the not so random passengers, it was possible that they would recognise her. Sydney clenched her fists in frustration.   
  
***  
  
Claudia swallowed her nervousness and strode past the queue of people. At the head of the queue was a very large, very irate man sporting a garish football top. Claudia's step did not falter, although she balked inside about what she was about to do. She straightened her spine and shouldered her way in front of the supporter.  
  
"Oi!" the man was understandably indignant, but Claudia was expecting, counting on that. She whirled pulling her wallet from her pocket and thrusting it close to his face. "Interpol!" she hissed, "If you don't want to spend the next day in a prison cell, I suggest you back off. Now!"  
  
Hurriedly the supporter stepped back, straight onto the foot of the man behind him. The elderly gentleman cried out and bent over to push away the supporter's leg. In doing so he bumped against the woman behind him. She turned quickly and the oversized golf bag she was carrying across one shoulder jarred the supporter as he went to help the man he had trodden on.   
  
In the confusion of the yelps of pain and the stuttered apologies Claudia turned to the BA representative, snapping shut her wallet. "Two men, Caucasian, one approximately six foot, 210 pounds, blonde hair, green eyes. The other, slightly shorter, brown eyes, wavy brown hair. They were here. Which flight are they booked on?" Claudia settled an uncompromising glare on the assistant.  
  
The assistant tore his gaze away from the unfolding pantomime behind Claudia, wincing in reflexive sympathy as the head of a golf club swiped across the supporter's belly and the man doubled up.  
  
"Heathrow." he said dazedly.  
  
Claudia gave him a brilliant if unnoticed smile. "Thank you very much." she trilled. She spun on her heel and picked her way through the gawping passengers.  
  
***  
  
"They're going to London." said Claudia triumphantly as she returned to Sydney.  
  
"Really." said Sydney, still gaping at the devastation Claudia had left behind. She glanced at Claudia's flushed face. "I'm impressed. Now, let's get our own flights," Sydney took Claudia's arm and spared a glance over her shoulder to where some order was being restored to the British Airways desk, "from a different airline, I think."  
  
"Oh, I don't know. Interpol contacts might get us a discount."  
  
"Don't push it." growled Sydney. "Always remember, a successful con is knowing when to quit."  
  
"Right."  
  
***  
  
"So, Mr Bailey." Troy took a sip from his glass of complementary champagne. "Where to next?"  
  
Nigel dragged his nose away from his notes and tiredly pushed his glasses back to the top of his head. "The War Department." he said shortly. "I need confirmation on a few points."  
  
Troy's curiosity was burning, but he did not want to appear too eager for information. He had to let Bailey believe that he was still in control, so instead Troy chose to concentrate on the 'how' rather than the 'what'. "Do you think the British Civil Service will let you waltz in to their offices and demand information?"  
  
"One of them will. At least she will for me, I don't know about you."  
  
"Very well, Mr Bailey. I'll wait for you. I trust you." said Troy with a wide smile.  
  
Nigel nodded and returned to his notes trying to dislodge the picture of a crocodile which had suddenly popped into his mind.  
  
***  
  
Heathrow was even busier than Charles de Gaul, if that was possible. But at last Syd and Claudia had had a piece of overdue luck. Nigel's flight had been delayed allowing Syd and Claudia the chance to pick the best spots from which to find Nigel amongst the disembarking passengers. Sydney sat in one of the waiting areas, peering out at the two main exits, the car rental desk and the baggage claim from beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Not much of a disguise, but it was the best she could do on such short notice.  
  
Sydney felt a vibration from her mobile phone and flicked it open. "Do you see them, Claudia?"  
  
"Not yet. But look who else is here."  
  
Sydney looked up to where Claudia was standing on the next level. Claudia nodded her head and jerked it to the opposite side of the concourse. Sydney followed her nod; nothing there, up to the top level, Ah...  
  
The top floor of the concourse was glassed in - the lounge for the executives and VIP passengers. The fine curtains had been pulled aside at one point and an old man, leaning on a cane stood looking down, apparently scanning the concourse below with the same avidity as herself and Claudia.  
  
"Elliot Trevaylen." Sydney muttered. "What's he doing here?"  
  
Sydney's thoughts were interrupted by an excited squawk from her mobile.  
  
"I can see them, Syd. They're getting their bags."  
  
"Okay, Claudia. Get down here and be ready to go."  
  
"On my way." Sydney closed the phone and gathered her bag, watching as Nigel and Troy made their way to the exit. She was about to stand when she saw Troy and Nigel shake hands then Nigel left and joined the taxi-rank outside. Sydney was surprised. Surely Troy would not let Nigel out of his sight?  
  
Troy glanced up towards the top lounge and smiled. Then he turned and gestured with his hand. For a terrible moment Sydney thought he was waving at her but then Troy was joined by the same man Sydney had recognised in Paris. She wished she could remember his name, Marcel or Marceaux, or something. The two men spoke for a moment then the mime artist joined the taxi queue and Troy headed for the executive lounge.  
  
"Okay, I'm here. What d'we do?" Claudia was slightly out of breath from running.  
  
Sydney was torn. She did not want to leave Nigel with that brute on his tail, but neither could they afford to lose track of Troy. She had only a few seconds in which to make up her mind. She took a deep breath, crossed her fingers and prayed she was making the right decision.  
  
"Claudia, stay here. Troy's gone up to see Trevaylen. Don't lose him. If you can, find out where he and Nigel are going next. Somehow, I doubt that the Discoveror is hidden in Heathrow Airport. But don't let him see you, okay?"  
  
Claudia nodded faintly. "What about you?"  
  
"I'm going to follow Nigel." Sydney gave Claudia's hand a small squeeze. "Be careful."  
  
"You too." But Sydney was already gone. Claudia sighed and looked up to the executive lounge. The curtains were back in place and Claudia could see nothing. She sighed again and went to look for the exit to the lounge so that she would not miss Troy when he came out.  
  
***  
  
Nigel settled back into the wide seats of the London taxi with a deep sigh of relief. He was very surprised that Frakes had not insisted on accompanying him, but Frakes himself had seemed a bit distracted and Nigel was not about to argue when he suggested staying behind in the airport.  
  
It was with a lighter heart that Nigel looked out at the sights. He did not miss London particularly, but he did miss the cabs, the space to spread out and feel as if you were being chauffeured in your very own limousine. London taxi drivers, on the other hand, were almost always guaranteed to spoil it.  
  
"Look at that will ya?" The driver shook his fist as they passed by a motorist who had been parked on double yellow lines and stopped by a traffic warden. The warden had his book out and was writing solidly despite the protestations of the motorist. "Bloody traffic wardens. Little Hitlers every one of them!"  
  
Nigel cringed in his seat, the age-old taxi debate coming up on him; Stay quiet? or argue back? With relief Nigel saw that they were approaching the Houses of Parliament, they would soon be at his destination.  
  
"And they're not the worst of them! Oh no! Clampers! Ever had your car clamped? Two hundred and eighty quid to get them to take that flamin' clamp off your car. Somebody, somewhere is making a bloody fortune!"  
  
Nigel grunted noncommittally and stared out of the window, hoping the driver would take the hint. He was not that lucky.  
  
"My brother-in-law, now he used to work for the council. He says they had more problems with cowboy clamping operations than flamin' vandals. Can you believe that?"  
  
Nigel sighed and closed his eyes against a sudden headache.  
  
***  
  
Sydney's taxi stopped a little way up the street from the Ministry of Defence offices in Whitehall. Sydney had a quick look around, but there was no sign of Nigel.  
  
"There you go, miss."  
  
Sydney smiled at the driver. "Thanks." She never knew why Nigel complained about London taxi drivers. They were always so polite and considerate. She was about to pay her fare when she spied another taxi waiting at a different cross-roads, the mime artist was very definitely the passenger.  
  
"Um, on second thoughts. Would you mind if we waited here for awhile? Please, leave the meter running."  
  
The cabbie shrugged. "No problem, miss. I'll even give you the off-peak rate." He smiled and driver and passenger both settled back. "You'll be with the CIA then will you?" the cabbie chuckled.  
  
"What makes you say that?" asked Sydney.  
  
"Just a game I like to play sometimes. You know the sort of thing. Where people are going. What they are going there for. It passes the time."  
  
"And what makes you think I'm with the CIA?" Sydney was smiling herself.  
  
"Well, you're American. And you're parked outside the MoD. And you're very interested in that taxi over there. And you're not going in. You must be some kind of spy!" The cabby's eyes were twinkling with amusement.  
  
"I hate to disappoint you..." Sydney broke off as she saw Nigel come out of the offices and head down the street. Quickly she looked over at the other taxi. The car was drifting forward slowly, its lights off. Sydney looked up to the end of the street where Nigel had succeeded in hailing a cab of his own. The mime artist's taxi suddenly growled into life and darted forward to follow. "Okay, let's go."  
  
The cabbie started his car looking worriedly at her in the rear-view mirror. "Hey, you're not really with the CIA, are you?"  
  
Sydney grinned reassuringly. "Nope. That man that came out of the MoD? He's a friend of mine. And the man in the taxi, he's not a friend of ours. I'm just keeping an eye on things."  
  
The cabbie looked doubtful for a moment but something in Sydney's earnest expression must have convinced him. He grinned suddenly. "Okay then. Go on and say it. Please?"  
  
Sydney was confused for a moment, then she realised what the driver meant. "Follow that cab!" she commanded.  
  
"Yes, ma'am!" the cabbie took off. "I've always wanted someone to say that." he grinned.  
  
***  
  
Heathrow again! Sydney was profoundly grateful that Nigel's chase had not led to America or Canada or Australia or anywhere else that would have involved jet-lag. It was bad enough with just one hour's time difference. In fact she was now wearing two watches, each clearly labelled, one for British time, one for European. She hurried into the airport, donning the hat as she went.  
  
Claudia spotted her immediately and bustled over. "Come on, Syd. No time to waste!"  
  
Sydney allowed Claudia to guide her through the milling passengers to the correct departure gate. When they got to the desk Claudia presented their tickets. The two of them were almost the last to get on board. Sydney looked up at the red lights on the board informing passengers of their flight number and destination.  
  
"Ardonen?"  
  
Claudia tugged her forward. "Come on, Syd."  
  
***  
  
"Mr Bailey! What an unexpected surprise! We did not expect to see you again so soon!"  
  
Nigel smiled at the hotel manager. "I'm a little surprised myself. But very glad to be back here."  
  
"Always a pleasure, Mr Bailey." the manager turned the register for Nigel to sign. Nigel completed the formalities as Frakes answered a call on his mobile phone.  
  
"There you are, Mr Bailey." the manager beamed as he handed Nigel two sets of keys. "Derek here will give you a hand with your luggage."  
  
Nigel nodded and turned to see the young hotel porter hefting their bags. "Hello again, Derek. How's that motorbike of yours?"  
  
"Running like a dream now, sir!"  
  
Nigel nodded and turned as Frakes finished his low conversation.  
  
"Lead on, MacDuff!" Troy was, as always, smiling, but his eyes were cold.  
  
Nigel suppressed a shiver. "I think you'll find the correct quote is 'Lay on, MacDuff.'" Nigel amended and followed the porter up the stairs.  
  
"I stand corrected." Troy muttered snidely and followed.  
  
***  
  
"This is nice." Claudia sounded a little uncertain.  
  
"Yeah, it is," said Sydney absently. *What to do. What to do.* "It's even nicer in daylight." Their cab came into sight of the Ardonen Arms Hotel and Sydney decided on her course of action. "Stop the car, please." The taxi slowed to a stop. Sydney turned to Claudia. "I want you to find Mrs Cameron, she's the town curator, and I want you to tell her everything. Got that?"  
  
Claudia nodded. "Where does she live?"  
  
Sydney opened her mouth to answer, then realised that she did not know. She'd only seen Mrs Cameron's office, not her house. "Erm..."  
  
"I know where Mrs C lives, if you need to see her."  
  
Sydney looked towards the driver thankfully. "Thanks. You're a life saver." Quickly Sydney got out of the car, waving her mobile at Claudia. "Let me know as soon as you get to Mrs Cameron's!" Then she was gone.  
  
Claudia shrugged. "All right then. Mrs C's, please." The taxi continued on its way.  
  
***  
  
Troy watched as Bailey laboriously unpacked his textbooks, his notes, his maps... When Nigel started to assemble the flip-chart Troy realised, with horror, that he was about to show him how he'd come to the next step.  
  
"Ah, Mr Bailey. There is no need to convince me of your findings. Like I said before, I trust you." Troy could not bear the thought of having to listen to the researcher through the whole, convoluted story again.  
  
Nigel shrugged. "As you wish." He picked up his coat. "Let's go then."  
  
It was Troy's turn to be surprised. "Uh?"  
  
"Let's go. You do want the Discoveror, don't you?"  
  
"Right."  
  
The two men left the hotel. Nigel guided them steadily towards Castle Ardonen, enjoying the sensation of power. He knew where the stone was. His work was about to be vindicated. If Sydney was here it would be even better. But since she wasn't... Nigel glanced back at his new pay-master. He'd just have to be very, very careful.  
  
***  
  
TBC 


	8. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 - Is there anyone who really thinks I have any claim to ownership over the familiar characters? Thought not.  
  
***  
  
Claudia knocked at an unassuming cottage. She looked back, somewhat nervously, as the taxi turned and headed back to the village, leaving her alone, in the dark, with only the sound of the sea echoing in her ears.  
  
The door suddenly opened and Claudia was faced with a very crotchety old woman.  
  
"Yes?" Mrs Cameron snapped.  
  
Claudia took a deep breath. "Hi! I'm Claudia! I'm working with Syd and Nigel. Syd asked me to come and tell you everything."  
  
Mrs Cameron deliberately looked Claudia up and down with pursed lips. Then she nodded. "You'd better come in."  
  
***  
  
Troy cursed quietly as yet another bramble caught his hand.  
  
"Is everything all right, Mr Frakes?" Nigel called in a low voice.  
  
"Everything is just peachy, Mr Bailey." replied Troy, sucking the cut. He glanced distrustfully around the landscape.   
  
Castle Ardonen towered behind them although Bailey had made no move to try and enter the castle itself. They were heading slowly through a tangle of bramble, gorse and nettles towards... well, Troy hoped they were going towards something. He glanced around again, looking for any movement in the still night. Marcel had called him at the hotel and told him that Professor Fox had followed them to Ardonen. He should have realised that Fox would not abandon her assistant so readily.  
  
"Over here, Mr Frakes!"  
  
Troy forced his way through a particularly dense patch of vegetation, yelping quietly as his hands were torn again. Gloves, he should have worn gloves. He pushed through to find Nigel clearing plants away from a slight rise in the ground. "He's wearing gloves." Troy thought sourly.  
  
"Can you give me a hand here?"  
  
Troy knelt down beside Nigel and made a cursory effort to clear the brambles. Nigel did not seem to notice that it was himself who was doing most of the work. At last they had the plants moved revealing two heavy iron doors built into the rise of the land. A heavy but rusted padlock kept them shut.  
  
"What is this?" asked Troy. He took a small metal rod from his pocket, extended it, inserted it between the doors and the padlock and began to twist.  
  
"It's an entrance to an old bomb shelter. Ardonen was a Royal Airforce base during the Second World War and the castle was a combined headquarters and barracks." Nigel was looking with worry at the tool Troy was using. It was not exactly standard issue equipment for a self-confessed philanthropist.  
  
"I did wonder why such a small place like this has its own airport." said Troy. Then with a grunt and a final twist the padlock popped and clattered down the door. Troy caught it before it could make any more noise. He gestured to the doors. "Shall we?"  
  
Each man took hold of one of the handles and slowly raised the heavy doors. Troy looked around anxiously as the old iron screeched in protest at being disturbed after so many years, but the only movement was an indignant crow which fluttered away into the night.  
  
Nigel had no qualms about being overhead. He took out a pencil torch and played it into the opening revealing a short set of steps cut into the ground. "Let's go." They entered the shelter.  
  
***  
  
Sydney stayed low as she trailed Nigel and Troy behind Castle Ardonen. She was glad it was a clear night, she could stay far enough back so that the two men would not notice her, she hoped. Sydney risked a quick look over the bushes to see Nigel and Troy kneeling at a bump in the ground and she settled back.   
  
As she waited for the two men to continue she looked across at the castle. Castle Ardonen was even more impressive up close. A tall tower topped with battlements which glinted in the moonlight, high thick stone walls surrounding the rest of the buildings. A very defensive castle. Sydney could just imagine what it must of been like for anyone trying to take this castle by force. It would have been impossible. In fact Sydney was sure that she'd read somewhere in the tourist literature that Castle Ardonen was the only one in Scotland which had never fallen to outside forces. Sydney hoped that she and Nigel would have better luck.  
  
Her musings were interrupted by a loud grating of metal. Sydney forced herself to stay still for a few moments longer. When she carefully peered out again she was in time to see Troy's back disappearing into the opening. Sydney moved forward.  
  
***  
  
"We seem to be going down, Mr Bailey."  
  
"That's right." Nigel paused and consulted his hand drawn map. "This way." he pointed and then continued. "This hill is riddled with tunnels, most of them natural." Nigel reached out his hand and brushed the smooth cold stone. "It looks like they were made by some kind of underground water system, thousands of years ago." They turned a corner and even Troy could see the difference in the walls. "Of course some of them are man-made." Nigel broke off a small piece of the rough hewn rock and handed it back to Troy. "Lower down the townspeople made quite a few tunnels of their own for smuggling, but these ones," Nigel gestured around, "these ones were made during World War II. Apart from being an airforce base, Ardonen was also a headquarters for Military Intelligence. They needed somewhere secure. I guess they learnt from the example of the smugglers."  
  
"Mmn, just like that strongroom under the Burgh Halls." muttered Troy.  
  
Nigel froze. "Yes, something like that." he said slowly.  
  
"Is this what you needed to confirm at the Ministry of Defence?" asked Troy.  
  
"Yes. An old friend of the family works there. She allowed me to see some of the documents I needed."  
  
"We must remember to thank her when this is all over. What's her name?" Troy considered that a MoD contact could be very useful.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr Frakes." Nigel said easily. "I'm afraid I have to keep that information confidential. I don't want to get her into trouble. Those documents are still officially classified, will be until 2022. No offence."  
  
"None taken." It would not be too difficult to find out if need be.  
  
***  
  
Sydney followed the sound of the voices. It was going to be tricky if Nigel and Troy had to retrace their steps for any reason - there were no hiding places. Steeling herself Sydney carried on.  
  
***  
  
"This should be it." said Nigel.  
  
They stood in front of a strong wooden door which was reinforced with iron studs. Another padlock held it closed.  
  
Troy played his torch up to the ceiling and traced some dark electrical wires high above. They snaked away back up the corridor. Nigel followed them with his own light.  
  
"That should go back to the castle." he said, checking his map.  
  
"Right. Okay, Mr Bailey, if you'll allow me." Troy brandished his metal rod and Nigel moved so that Frakes could get to the door.  
  
Nigel watched anxiously as "Mr Frakes" twisted the padlock. Now, more than ever, was a time to be cautious. How did Frakes know about the strongroom in the Burgh Halls? He could not, unless he'd been there. That little slip was confirmation of all Nigel's suspicions. Frakes could not be trusted.  
  
"Got you!" Troy grunted as the padlock came lose. He pulled at the door and it opened with a long drawn out creak.   
  
Nigel suppressed a shiver and stepped over the threshold. "I wonder if the electricity still works." he muttered.  
  
"Unlikely."  
  
But Nigel had found the light switch. "Here goes nothing." He flicked the switch. To his surprise it worked. Lights flickered on along the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft glow.  
  
"Not bad going considering no one has been down here in what, fifty years?" he said as he looked around.  
  
It was not a particularly impressive sight. It was not an ancient temple or a druidic cave. It was a conference room. It was stark, utilitarian, decorated by government contractors during a time of war, you could hardly expect luxury.   
  
The room was large, dominated by a long conference table with two lines of chairs down either side and one at the head. At the back of the room was an old mahogany sideboard and in the wall a safe was mounted. Nigel could even see an old picture hook, now empty, which must have concealed the safe all those years ago. A high shelf ran around the whole room propped up by supports. The shelf had quite an eclectic collection of objects, mostly boxes, but also bits of old radios, an ancient looking typewriter, even a genuine pointer used for pushing models around on maps to indicate the position of the allied forces. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.  
  
"Where to start?" Nigel questioned.  
  
"What, exactly, are we looking for here?"  
  
"Some kind of container. Something big enough to hold the Discoveror."  
  
"Why here? You've already checked out Ardonen and it was a bust." Frakes sounded bewildered and Nigel almost smiled, another slip!  
  
"Yeah. Perhaps we should start with the safe?"  
  
Troy shrugged. "Whatever you say." He crossed to the safe taking a small velvet pouch from his pocket. He opened it up revealing a set of delicate, gleaming tools and went to work on the safe door.  
  
Nigel crossed to the table and dragged one of the chairs over so that he could stand on it to reach the shelf. He grabbed one of the boxes and jumped down. The shelf wobbled unsteadily for an instant. Nigel opened the box and began to look for the one thing that he actually needed from this room.  
  
***  
  
Sydney could see the glow of lights. She edged forward, ducking behind the door and cautiously peered into the room.  
  
***  
  
"You see, Mr Frakes." Nigel was on to a fourth box. "The first time I came here I thought that Dr McDonald had the Discoveror. But he did not fit the pattern. The people that have owned the Discoveror have been powerful people. Most of them came to a bad end..." Nigel retrieved another box, "but they all had power. And it got me thinking, who else in history has had that kind of power?"  
  
"I'm sure you're going to tell me." Troy muttered caustically. He was having some trouble with the safe. He was used to breaking into state-of-the-art equipment, not this dinky toy. And this toy was defeating him.  
  
"Then it all fell into place. I knew that Napoleon had the stone, but I realised that he did not take it with him. He left it in France. Probably very well hidden and it stayed there for over two hundred years." Nigel broke off as he re-read the paper in his hand. This was it! Quickly he checked that Frakes was still working on the safe and stuffed the paper into his pocket. He picked up another sheet and continued, "Then the Second World War broke out and Paris fell to the Nazi's. The Louvre was plundered, and I'm betting that the Nazi's found the Discoveror and took it back to Hitler. Hitler was very keen on the occult. He would have known what the Discoveror was."  
  
"Interesting theory. But if Hitler had the stone, how did it get here? Why did Hitler lose if he had that much power?"  
  
"In1941 something very strange happened. The war was beginning to go badly for the Nazi's. The German war machine was set up for quick, lightening victories. Not for long campaigns. But Hitler had opened up a front against the Russians, just like Napoleon. And, just like Napoleon, it was too much. Maybe he thought he was invincible. His officers didn't. One of his most trusted officers, Rudolph Hess, came to Britain in secret. I believe he brought the Discoveror with him. He was held at Castle Ardonen."  
  
"And you think it's still here?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I hope you're right, Mr Bailey." With a cry Troy finally unlocked the safe and swung open the door.   
  
Nigel crowded forward. "There it is!" Nigel injected a suitable expression of awe into his voice.  
  
At the bottom of the safe was an ancient looking wooden box with a more modern, if rusted, padlock. Reverently Nigel pulled it out, blowing the dust off it, and set it on the table.  
  
"I'm almost afraid to open it." Nigel whispered.  
  
"I know what you mean." Troy reached slowly into his jacket and began to remove his extendible metal rod. The tool was multi-purpose. It was very useful for jimmying padlocks, but it could also be used as a cosh.  
  
***  
  
Sydney strained to hear Nigel's voice, listening in fascination as he explained his theory. Sometimes she forgot just how good a researcher Nigel was. Unfortunately she strained forward a bit too far and the old door creaked on its hinges. Horrified Sydney sank back into the shadows.  
  
***  
  
"What was that?" Nigel's head snapped up as he heard the door move.  
  
Troy wasted no time, bringing the metal round to connect with Bailey's head, but Nigel saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and ducked as best he could. The rod hit his forehead and Nigel staggered. Troy decided on Plan B. He seized Nigel's shoulders and flung him into the wall. Nigel gave out a pained cry as his head hit the wall and he fell in a boneless heap. The shelves above shook with the impact and dust rained down on the still body.  
  
Troy hefted the box and saluted the unconscious man. "Thanks for all your help, Mr Bailey."  
  
***  
  
Sydney heard a scuffle and then a cry of pain. Throwing caution to the winds she rounded the door, taking in the scene with one glance. Nigel lay on the floor unmoving. Troy stood with a smile of satisfaction on his face, holding the box. Sydney could feel her rage rising. Nobody hurt her friends!  
  
"Put that down!" she commanded.  
  
Troy whirled round. "Ah, Professor Fox. I was wondering if you would join us."  
  
"I said, put that down." Sydney said dangerously as she advanced.  
  
Troy laughed. "I don't think so." He took a moment to admire Sydney's striking figure. She was moving forward, cutting off Troy's path to the door. He nodded appreciatively. He remembered thinking that Sydney Fox was like an ancient Amazonian warrior. But even the Amazons had their Achilles' heel.  
  
"It was a pleasure meeting you." Troy smirked. He charged to the side and slammed his shoulder into one of the shelf supports. It began to list.  
  
Sydney was expecting an attack on herself and for a second she was confused at Troy's actions. Then as the wood creaked she realised what he was trying to do. Her gaze flicked from the creaking support to the unsteady shelf to Nigel lying directly underneath. "No!" she screamed.  
  
Troy grinned evilly and shoved at the support again.  
  
Sydney scrambled up onto the table desperately running its length.   
  
Troy slipped past as boxes began to topple down. "Be seeing you!" he called cheerily as he left kicking the door shut as he went.  
  
Sydney jumped down from the table, frantically pulling Nigel clear from the falling debris. The shelves collapsed, boxes of papers spilling out and covering them both like a blanket of snow. For a few moments everything was still, then there was a groan.  
  
Sydney sat up, brushing the paper away. She looked anxiously down at Nigel. "Nigel, can you hear me?"  
  
Nigel groaned again and opened his eyes, his gaze focusing on Sydney. "Syd? What are you doing here?"  
  
"Saving your butt." Sydney said grimly. "Come on, Nigel. No time to lose." She helped him to his feet.  
  
"It's okay, Syd..."  
  
"Good, let's go. We can't let Troy get away." Sydney quickly made for the door.  
  
"Who's Troy?" asked Nigel as he followed at a slower pace.  
  
***  
  
Troy sped through the undergrowth, the box pressed tightly to his chest.   
  
He would have liked to be able to barricade Fox and Bailey inside the shelter, but he did not have time. Besides there were other ways of slowing any pursuit. He grinned as he spotted what must have been Fox's car semi-concealed and parked not far from his own. Quickly he stowed the box in his transport and then headed for Sydney's car.  
  
***  
  
Sydney followed the path that Troy had made. She could hear a car engine start up ahead. "Damn!" Sydney put on a spurt of speed.  
  
***  
  
Troy drove like a rally driver. The sooner he got out of here the better.  
  
***  
  
Sydney came to where she had parked her car. In the distance she could see Troy's headlights driving at speed further and further away. Hurriedly she pulled aside the branches she had used to disguise her car. Then she stopped. What was that hissing noise? With a sense of foreboding Sydney looked down. Flat tyre!  
  
"Blast!" She turned as she heard a rustling behind her.   
  
Nigel staggered through the undergrowth, swaying unsteadily. "What's going on?"  
  
"Your mate just got away with the Discoveror."  
  
"Oh dear." Nigel's eyes turned up in his head and he slumped back in a faint.  
  
Sydney darted forward and caught him under the shoulders before he could fall. She looked up in time to see Troy's headlights wink out. "Great, just great." she growled.  
  
***  
  
TBC 


	9. Chapters (plural!) 10 & 11

Chapter 10 - See Chapter 1 for disclaimers.  
  
***  
  
Sydney watched as her car was lowered from the tow truck. The driver jumped down to release the chains. Sydney sighed and looked over to where Nigel sat beside Mrs Cameron's front door, his head in his hands. The driver came towards her.  
  
"Okay, miss. I've used your spare tyre, but I'll have to get another one from my brother's garage in the morning." He shrugged apologetically. "It was really cruel, letting down two of your tyres like that. Nothing like this has ever happened in Ardonen before. But these days... Did you know, even the Burgh Halls were broken in to?"  
  
"So I heard." Sydney said dryly. "Thanks for all your help."  
  
"I hope your friend is all right." the driver nodded towards Nigel.  
  
"He will be." said Sydney in a tight voice.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow then."  
  
"Yeah, thanks again." Sydney nodded and turned to Mrs Cameron's door. "Come on, Nigel." she hauled Nigel to his feet and knocked at the door.  
  
***  
  
Claudia looked around Mrs Cameron's sitting room with feigned interest, trying to ignore Sydney's relentless pacing and Nigel's dejected form.  
  
"I don't believe you, Nigel. You speak seven languages, you've got two degrees, you're supposed to be of above-average intelligence. How could you be so stupid!"  
  
Claudia's hands fluttered nervously. She'd never seen Sydney so angry, not even when Claudia had accidentally pressed the 'Escape' key on Syd's computer and erased four hours work in an instant.  
  
"Come now, Professor." said Mrs Cameron as she entered the room. She crossed over to Nigel and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Nigel finally opened his eyes and took the home-made icepack from her holding it to his throbbing temple. A small sigh escaped and he nodded his thanks. "The important thing is," continued Mrs Cameron, "that we have Mr Bailey back, safe and relatively sound."  
  
Sydney threw herself into an armchair. "The important thing is," she muttered, "he was nearly killed."  
  
Nigel's head came up sharply and he did wince as a sharp pain arrowed through his skull, but it was almost drowned out by the warm glow from within. Now he recognised Sydney's blustering anger for what it was - deep concern, for him. Not for the loss of the Discoveror. He smiled lightly. "Just lucky I guess." Sydney looked as if she was about to start shouting again and Nigel quickly added, "At least, I am when you are around." He smiled more strongly this time.  
  
Sydney sighed and shook her head. "What are we going to do with you, Nigel?"  
  
"Reinstate me?" Nigel asked hopefully.  
  
"Sorry, can't do that." Nigel's face fell and Sydney decided that his expression was as much revenge as she could take, under the circumstances. "My goldfish ate your resignation letter, so technically you never resigned."  
  
"You don't have a goldfish." Nigel stuttered. Then realisation dawned. "Oh, right, I see. Thanks."  
  
Mrs Cameron and Claudia exchanged relieved glances. "Friends again?" Claudia enquired brightly.  
  
"Friends again." said Nigel.  
  
"Good." Sydney spoke briskly. "Don't do it again and let's get back to work." The softness in her eyes belied the sharp words. Claudia groaned theatrically. "I'm serious, Claudia." Sydney spoke more gently. "I'm not worried about Troy using the Discoveror. He doesn't have the imagination. All he's interested in is how much he can get for it. But if Trevaylen gets his hands on it... there's no telling what he could do. That guy is a, a..."  
  
"Nutter?" Claudia supplied helpfully.  
  
"Right. We have to stop Troy giving the stone to Trevaylen."  
  
"We can assume that he will make straight for the airport. Now that he has his prize he will want to be on his way as quickly as possible."  
  
Nigel closed his eyes and settled back in the chair saying. "Troy doesn't have the Discoveror." He started to count under his breath.  
  
"We should get after him right now."  
  
"But Troy will be expecting us to follow him." Claudia protested. "What if he tries to leave the country by boat?"  
  
"True. I wonder if we could get Sergeant Paterson to bring in the police. Spin him some story about Troy stealing something from the..." Mrs Cameron trailed off. Someone had said something important. She turned to Nigel. "What did you say, Mr Bailey?"  
  
Forty five seconds, not bad going. "I said, Troy doesn't have the Discoveror."  
  
"What!" three voices were raised in an incredulous chorus.  
  
Nigel grinned. "I pulled a fast one. Troy got away with the regimental insignia."  
  
"What?" Mrs Cameron repeated. Her hand came up to her throat in a gesture of distress. "You found the insignia? They've been lost since the war!"   
  
Nigel was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Mrs C. It was the only thing to hand. But we will get them back for you, I promise."  
  
Mrs Cameron relaxed slightly. "I have no doubt that you will, Mr Bailey."  
  
"But, but I saw you." said Sydney in a bewildered tone of voice. "Troy had the box."  
  
"Well I had to make it look good." explained Nigel. "I have learnt a few tricks over the last two years." He rubbed the bump on his forehead. "I just haven't learnt how to duck convincingly yet."  
  
"Nigel, you are a genius! So where is the Discoveror?"  
  
"Very close. Shall we?"  
  
***  
  
Troy stretched out. He could become accustomed to first class travel. And soon he would be rich enough to be able to. Dollar signs paraded behind his closed eyelids and a self-satisfied smirk crossed his face. Not long to go now. A quick refuelling stop in Manchester and then on to London. Trevaylen should be waiting with his cheque. And then it was the first flight out of there. Somewhere nice and sunny. Jamaica perhaps. Or maybe Antigua. Somewhere where the living was easy and the women were hot. Oh yeah...   
  
Troy tapped the parcel on the seat next to him possessively. He opened his eyes and glanced down at it, suddenly curious to see what all the fuss was about. Carefully he undid the wrappings and pulled the heavy wooden box free. He made short work of the rusted padlock and slowly opened the box. A bright red cloth greeted him, impatiently Troy pulled it aside revealing...  
  
"What the?" Frantically Troy pawed through the articles; a heavy leather bound book, some kind of short iron sceptre, a number of medals... "Oh my God." In his desperation Troy resorted to upending the box on the seat, everything tumbled out. There was definitely no crystal.  
  
"I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead." the chant was a litany in his mind. He fell back against his own chair all the colour draining from his face and closed his eyes.  
  
"Sir? Sir? Are you feeling all right?" the concerned tones of the stewardess washed over him.   
  
Without opening his eyes Troy murmured, "Could I have a glass of water, please?"  
  
"Of course, sir. There is a bag in the pocket, sir." The stewardess bustled away to get the water for her passenger, hoping that his sudden illness was not serious. Most people only got airsick on bumpy journeys, but you could never tell.  
  
Troy tried to bring his breathing under control. He had a feeling he was going to need that sick-bag.  
  
***  
  
Chapter 11.  
  
There was a steady drip of water as the group of people moved further and further into the hillside.  
  
Nigel shone his torch over the dank walls and ceiling of the tunnel. "Must be high-tide." he muttered as he bent the light to the paper in his hand.  
  
"Does that mean we're going to be flooded out?" Claudia questioned nervously. "You know what I mean," she snatched her hand back from the wall as it connected with something too slimy for her tastes. "We're walking along, quite the thing, and then we'll hear a far-off rumble and we'll think its thunder, but then we realise you don't get thunder underground, and we'll say 'Oh, what was that?' and one of us will say, 'I didn't hear anything', and we'll shrug and laugh and then a great big wall of water will come shooting around a corner and we'll all look at it and then we'll all scream and we'll all start to run. But it keeps coming and we're looking for a way out and we can't find a way out, and then we duck into a corridor and the water goes past, and it doesn't go down our corridor. And why doesn't it go down our corridor? It's water! It can go anywhere it likes!" Claudia stopped abruptly, suddenly aware of the three torches trained on her and the three pitying expressions of her companions. "It happens," she mumbled sourly.  
  
"Better now?" Sydney asked.  
  
"Much better."  
  
***  
  
"Last call for Flight 473 to London Heathrow. Would passenger 'Frakes' please make his way to Gate 11. This flight is ready for take-off." The airline operative's voice was rigidly controlled. Mentally, Troy translated the tannoy announcement; "Would the idiot passenger Frakes, who is either trying to chat up Marlene at the Check-in Desk or can't find Gate 11, despite all the signs showing him the way, please get a bloomin' shift on, otherwise we'll miss our take-off slot."  
  
Troy pushed his way through the other passengers, straining to reach Gate 8 and the last flight to Ardonen. The very least of his worries was any inconvenience to the passengers on Flight 473 or the airline.  
  
***  
  
"This is it." Nigel sounded doubtful. "It should be it."  
  
Sydney stepped up to the rockface. "Are you sure?" She played her torch over the seemingly impenetrable wall.  
  
"Yes! No. I don't know!" Nigel gripped his torch between his teeth and fumbled with various pieces of paper, checking up and down the tunnel they were in with the sheets in front of him as well as his own internal compass. Finally he took a step back, gripped the torch and took a deep breath. "According to this," he flourished one of the papers. "That way goes back to the castle." he shone the light for emphasis, "That way goes to the smuggling tunnel," the torch whirled 180 degrees, "Which means that THIS way should be to the Discoveror."  
  
"What is 'this'." Sydney asked.  
  
"This is what I took from the bunker. It's a report of an official investigation into how Rudolph Hess escaped from his cell. He was found here, babbling about suffering the 'Curse of the Discoveror.' He was never the same again, apparently."  
  
Four torches focused on the wall in front of them.  
  
"It's just rock, Nigel. It's solid." Claudia sounded apologetic.  
  
"We've seen that before." Mrs Cameron mused.  
  
Sydney looked sharply at the older woman. "The chair." she whispered. Sydney's torch picked out the ceiling, then the floor. "Here, hold this." she tossed her torch to Nigel who caught it with one hand, and drew back her fist.  
  
"Syd! What are you doing?"  
  
Sydney ignored Nigel's concerned cry and ploughed her bunched fist into the wall.  
  
***  
  
Elliot Trevaylen impatiently scanned the passengers from the Ardonen flight.   
  
He was so close. He could almost taste the power. Any moment now he would see Troy and the Discoveror would be his. His forefinger tapped the tip of his cane. He saw the tearful reunions, the vain platitudes of business contacts, the weary - glad to be almost home...   
  
Trevaylen's face gradually darkened as passenger after passenger claimed their luggage - and there was no sign of Benjamin Troy.  
  
***  
  
"Are you crazy!" Nigel instinctively pulled on Sydney's arm, examining her hand for damage.  
  
"Nope." Sydney flexed her fingers, reassuring Nigel and herself that she was all right.  
  
Nigel fixed her with a stern gaze. "Don't ever do that again." he said. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."  
  
"Guess we really are even then." Sydney smiled. She turned to the hole she had made in what was now revealed to be a false wall.  
  
"Wow." Claudia stepped up to the wall and flicked the tattered remains of the material. "You can go through walls!"  
  
"Only in an emergency." Sydney smiled.  
  
Mrs Cameron gripped the painted backing and pulled. "Hess must have been very well prepared." she said dryly. "Shall we get on?"   
  
Claudia took the other side and between them, they ripped apart the flimsy ply-wood structure and cotton material. When the opening was large enough for them to step through Claudia and Mrs Cameron instinctively stepped back, allowing Sydney and Nigel forward.  
  
"Wow." Nigel whispered as he entered the gap.   
  
***  
  
Troy belted into his television-repair-van cum spy-central. "Where are they?" he demanded.  
  
Marcel raised his hands, palm up, in a classic gesture of confusion.  
  
"Damn!"  
  
***  
  
Now this was more like it. High, smooth rock-walls, so high that none of the torches could pick out the ceiling. A clean, sandy floor that obviously had not been disturbed in decades. And a shoulder-high plinth standing free in the centre. The torches focused on the top of the plinth picking out a squat, dull stone.  
  
"I thought the Discoveror was some kind of crystal?" Claudia questioned.  
  
The four moved closer to the plinth and took up stations around it shining their torches to keep it lit.  
  
"Oh my God." Mrs Cameron whispered slowly.  
  
"This is not the Discoveror itself, Claudia." Nigel gently traced the ancient carvings on the stone. Highly stylised pictures of plants and animals wound over its surface and sides.  
  
Sydney reached out her hand and brushed one of the pictures, a deer she thought. "They look almost Incan," she muttered, "but that can't be right. Celtic?"  
  
Nigel silently nodded, still enraptured with the find. "I can't believe it's all true."  
  
"What's true? If this isn't the Discoveror what on earth are we doing here?" Claudia sounded a little peeved.  
  
Sydney looked at Nigel quizzically. "Well, Nigel? It is beautiful. But its not what we came for."  
  
"Professor Fox, don't you realise what this is?" Mrs Cameron finally stepped up to the stone and laid a reverent hand over the top with a sigh. "This," she tapped her fingers lightly, beginning to smile, "this is the real 'Stone of Destiny'."  
  
Sydney looked at the stone incredulously. "Nah. It can't be. I've seen the Stone of Destiny and it did not look anything like this!"  
  
"But it is, Syd!" Nigel laughed openly. "It is also, possibly, the oldest practical joke in the world!" He and Mrs Cameron shook hands delightedly over the stone both giggling.  
  
"I never thought I'd see the day when a Scotswoman and an Englishman would be shaking hands over the genuine Stone of Destiny!" Mrs Cameron wiped a tear of laughter from her eye.  
  
"I don't get it." Claudia said flatly.  
  
Sydney shrugged. "Neither do I. I know that the Stone of Destiny was the Scots' coronation stone. Every Scottish monarch was crowned on it. Edward I stole the Stone in 1297. He took it back to London and had it incorporated into his own throne. It stayed in Westminster Abbey for the next seven hundred years and it was finally returned to Scotland when the Scottish Parliament reopened in 1999. End of story."  
  
"Ah, but its never the end of the story. The Scots had a legend that the monks at Scone Abbey knew that Edward Longshanks was on his way. And they hid the Stone of Destiny and replaced it with a worthless piece of granite. That's what Edward took back to England. Sneaky, huh?"  
  
"Very." Claudia sniffed. "Hey, watch out!" She stepped back hurriedly as Nigel crawled around the base of the plinth running his fingers over the rock.  
  
"Oops, sorry! Excuse me, coming through."  
  
"What are you doing now?"  
  
"It's all coming together, Syd. It came home after all. And the 'Giants' of course!"  
  
"I think Nigel has officially lost it." Claudia opined.  
  
Nigel ignored her. "Syd, remember what Napoleon said? 'The Giants kept their secrets of the resting place.' Now what else did Napoleon call 'Giants'?"  
  
"I take it he was not talking about the New York Giants."  
  
"The Pyramids, Syd! The Pyramids of Giza."  
  
"What, are we going to Egypt now?" Claudia was frustrated. "This is some detour!"  
  
"And Mrs Cameron how did the Scots get their name?" Nigel continued to tap at the rock.  
  
"Mmn? Oh well, there are a number of theories. From the Latin for 'pirates'..."  
  
"No. How did the Scots SAY they got their name?"  
  
"Oh, erm. Oh yes. A Celtic king married an Egyptian princess called 'Scota'."  
  
"And her dowry was?"  
  
"Well, the Stone of Destiny, of course and..." Mrs Cameron's face cleared as she realised what Nigel was getting at, "... the 'Eye of Ra', the key to all wisdom - the Discoveror. Do you need a hand there, Mr Bailey?" She dropped to her knees to start checking the other side of the plinth.  
  
"Now I'm lost." muttered Claudia.  
  
"It's plausible." Sydney considered. She stepped up to start examining the Stone of Destiny itself.  
  
"Wait a minute. Just hold on." Claudia stepped back making braking motions with her hand. "You said the Discoveror had been taken all over the world. If it belongs in Egypt why bring it back here?"  
  
"Because they got it wrong. The Romans took it to break the fighting spirit of the Picts. Constantine sent it away for safety. Only Napoleon had the right idea. He realised it was not enough to possess the Discoveror on its own. For its true power you needed to find its 'resting place'. That's what he was doing in Egypt."  
  
"And that's why Hess brought it to Scotland. He was not coming to sue for peace. He was bringing it 'home'." Sydney paused. "Good grief, if Hess had been right and transferred the power, Hitler would have been invincible."  
  
All three relic hunters halted their search for a moment, contemplating the sobering thought.  
  
"Let's be grateful that Hess was not such a good researcher as Mr Bailey." Mrs Cameron said lightly.  
  
"So what will we do when we find it. Take everything back to Egypt?"  
  
"No! The Stone of Destiny belongs here, in Scotland!" Mrs Cameron said with some heat.  
  
"As I understand it, it's just a wedding present. Maybe it should go back to the original owners. Why keep it here?"  
  
"Thousands of years of tradition. That's why it's staying here!"  
  
Sydney and Nigel exchanged wary glances. "Um, ladies? Why don't we find the Discoveror before we start arguing about it?"  
  
"Of course you're right, Mr Bailey." Mrs Cameron nodded to Claudia. "My apologies."  
  
"Ditto."  
  
"I think I've found it." said Sydney. She peered more closely at one of the short ends of the stone. The others crowded around to look. Sydney shone her torch at one of the pictures. "See that? Look at the eye of the deer. It's in the Egyptian style. That's called the eye of Ra too."  
  
"I've seen that before, Syd." declared Nigel. He crossed to the other side of the stone. "There's another one here. It's an identical picture." he said excitedly.  
  
"I guess this is the lock then. Okay, Nigel on three, press on the eye. Ready?" Sydney collected a nod from Nigel. "One. Two. Three!" Sydney pressed forward, she could see Nigel doing the same.   
  
Nothing happened.   
  
Sydney's puzzled eyes met Nigel's disappointed ones. "It must be something else then."  
  
Then they all heard a low sound, the grumble of rock on rock. Claudia looked around nervously. "Now I know that's not thunder, it's probably not water, what is it?"  
  
Sydney and Nigel stepped back from the Stone of Destiny in wonder as the relic began to rise from the plinth, balanced on two cylindrical stone pins. Cracks appeared at the sides and a line appeared across the top of the stone and then it split open like the petals of a flower, coming to rest on the plinth with a dull thud.  
  
"Gosh."   
  
"Wow."  
  
"My word."  
  
"It's beautiful." Sydney breathed.  
  
All four stepped up close, keeping their torches trained on the Discoveror, almost afraid that it would be lost again if the light went out. They stared at it in awe. As Sydney said it was beautiful.  
  
It was pale crystal, almost transparent, moulded into a perfect pyramid shape. The inside of the crystal seemed to catch the light in its many facets, absorbing it until it glowed with a soft yellow tone.  
  
"Well we found it. What do we do with it now?" Claudia demanded.  
  
Sydney gave her a warning look. "Go on, Nigel. Why don't you do the honours?"  
  
Nigel glanced at her doubtfully, Sydney gave an encouraging nod. Nigel took a deep breath and ran his finger down the side of the crystal. "So smooth, like glass." he whispered. Then steeling himself he reached forward and plucked the Discoveror from its bed, hefting it in his hand.  
  
Immediately the plinth shuddered and all four jumped back. The pins of stone started to sink back into the plinth closing the Stone of Destiny as they lowered. But it did not stop there. The entire plinth started to sink into the ground until all that was left was the blank floor. All that was left was the top of the plinth fitting snugly into the ground.   
  
Mrs Cameron silently kicked some of the sand over the bare rock until it looked like the rest of the ground. "Well. That takes care of one problem. It looks like the Stone of Destiny wants to stay here." she said. "But I think the Discoveror would be better off in a museum. That, or find its proper resting place."  
  
"I agree." said Sydney. "It would not be safe here anymore, that's for sure. Do you think you can find the 'resting place', Nigel?"  
  
Nigel tore his eyes away from the Discoveror. "Sure." he said easily. "No one's looked for it in two hundred years. It shouldn't be a problem."  
  
"That's what I like to hear. Confidence!" Sydney grinned.  
  
"If we're finished here can we please go?" asked Claudia. "This place gives me the creeps."  
  
"Certainly, my dear. I, for one, could do with a nice hot cup of tea. Any takers?"  
  
"Yes please!"  
  
Nigel carefully wrapped the Discoveror in his scarf and placed it gently in his pack.  
  
"Don't lose it." Sydney stage-whispered.  
  
"I don't intend to!" Nigel grinned. He took a last look around the chamber and then followed the others out.  
  
***   
  
Mrs Cameron unlocked her front door. "Come in, come in. Let's get that kettle on!" She opened the door to her sitting room and flicked on the light. "Milk, no sugar for you, Professor, is that right?" Mrs Cameron froze in her tracks as the chair behind her desk swivelled around.  
  
Benjamin Troy sat indolently in the chair, his revolver aimed unwaveringly at the stunned group.  
  
Behind them, Marcel quietly closed the sitting room door.  
  
"We have some unfinished business." Troy smiled.  
  
***  
  
TBC 


	10. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - Is this the end? See Chpt 1 for disclaimers.  
  
***  
  
"We have some unfinished business." Troy smiled. He gestured with the revolver for the group to fan out so that he could see them all. "I want the Discoveror." he said with deadly emphasis.  
  
"I thought you already had it." Sydney remarked lightly.  
  
For a second Troy's face was suffused with unadulterated rage. He kicked a box at his feet, sending it tumbling towards them. The box sent forth an indignant clanking noise. It came to rest at Mrs Cameron's feet.  
  
Swiftly Mrs Cameron opened the box, pulling out the flag and the sceptre. "The regimental insignia!" she said with relief. "Thank goodness for that!"  
  
Troy gazed at her with undisguised contempt. "I'm not after worthless trinkets. I want the Discoveror, I need it. Now!"  
  
"Well, there are places you can go..." Claudia needled.   
  
Troy's gun swivelled to aim at Claudia. Quickly Sydney laid a warning hand on Claudia's arm. "I have it!" she exclaimed.  
  
The gun turned back to Sydney. "Show me!" Troy demanded.  
  
Slowly, infinitely slowly, Sydney unslung her pack and dropped it to the floor. She shook her head as if she could not believe that they had failed and incidentally loosened her hair from behind her ears, concealing the sides of her face. She dropped to her knees. She glanced up at Nigel and flicked her eyes towards Marcel, who was still standing silent with his arms crossed in front of him. Then she spun her eyes towards Troy and tapped the clasp of her bag twice. Nigel's eyes widened. Sydney tapped the clasp again.  
  
"Hurry up, Professor! I don't have all day!" Troy's finger tightened on the trigger.  
  
Sydney straightened up, hefting the bag. "You know what? You want it? You take it!" She threw her bag at Troy.  
  
Troy yelped in surprise. Instinctively he ducked, firing the weapon in to the floor as he did so. Sydney launched herself over the desk tackling Troy, and the chair, to the ground.  
  
When Sydney threw her pack, Nigel took that as his cue. He propelled himself at Marcel's knees in a tried and tested rugby tackle. Marcel was taken by surprise. The only sound he made was a surprised squawk. Before he could take another breath, Claudia swiped a display teapot from a shelf and smashed it down on Marcel's head.  
  
Meanwhile Sydney had succeeded in disarming Troy. The gun skittered away across the floor. Both relic hunters struggled to reach it. But Mrs Cameron stepped up and kicked the gun away from them both.   
  
Snarling in anger, Troy gave up trying to reach the revolver and instead fixed his hands around Sydney's throat, choking the life from her.  
  
Claudia scrambled across the room and grabbed a vase filled with dried flowers from a shelf. She raised it ready to try the same trick again.  
  
"Not that one! That's Ming!" Mrs Cameron cried. Troy looked up at the sound of her voice, startled.  
  
That was all the distraction Sydney needed. She wriggled her wrists between Troy's and pushed with all her strength, simultaneously raising her knee and planting it firmly in every man's vulnerable spot. Troy's eyes crossed and he rolled to the side with a strangled gurgle, clutching his groin.  
  
Sydney wearily climbed to her feet, rubbing her throat. She crossed to Nigel who had retrieved the gun and now stood aiming it at Troy with a slightly unsteady hand. Gently Sydney took the gun from him. "I don't think he'll be going anywhere fast." she said.  
  
"Except to prison." said Mrs Cameron. "I'll go and call the police."  
  
"Good. Claudia could you find some rope?"  
  
Claudia nodded and followed Mrs Cameron.  
  
Mrs Cameron paused at the doorway and forlornly turned over some pieces of broken crockery with her foot. She bent down and salvaged the handle of the teapot, the only recognisable piece. "Royal Doulton, 1821." She sighed sadly. "Nevermind. I suppose it was in a good cause." She tossed the handle back to Claudia and gestured down the hallway. "Kitchen's that way. I think there's some clothesline under the sink."  
  
"Thanks. I'm really sorry about the teapot, Mrs C."  
  
Mrs Cameron patted her back kindly. "Don't worry about it. At least it wasn't the Ming!" she turned to the 'phone on the hall table, while Claudia headed for the kitchen.  
  
Nigel put a tentative arm around Sydney's waist, keeping a wary eye on the unmoving Marcel in the corner and a groaning Troy on the floor. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked with concern.  
  
"I'm fine." Sydney assured him. "All in a day's work, right?" She put her arm around his shoulders and gave an encouraging squeeze.  
  
"Right."  
  
Sydney and Nigel tiredly supported each other as they awaited the arrival of the police.  
  
***  
  
Mrs Cameron waved as the police van drove away. She turned to Sydney, Nigel and Claudia with some relief. "Thank goodness that's all over. I really had forgotten what relic hunting could be like."  
  
"Oh, I don't know. There are perks." said Claudia. "That nice policeman gave me his number."  
  
"Sergeant Paterson?"  
  
"Eww! No! Constable Partridge."   
  
Mrs Cameron smiled. "Perks indeed!" She turned to Sydney and Nigel. "Ready for that cup of tea? I'm sure I have another teapot somewhere!" she said with a good-natured wink at Claudia.  
  
"Actually, I think we'd better get going. We have one more stop to make."  
  
Mrs Cameron nodded in understanding. "Of course. It's been a pleasure working with you, Professor," they shook hands, "Mr Bailey, Claudia."  
  
"I am really, really sorry." Claudia said earnestly as she shook hands with Mrs Cameron.  
  
Mrs Cameron waved her away, "Anytime you are in the neighbourhood, drop by and say 'hello', yes?"  
  
"Count on it." Sydney smiled. "Right, let's go. Claudia could you arrange the flights. Nigel, the car."  
  
"On it." With a nod and a smile to Mrs Cameron Nigel carefully picked up his pack, patting it gently to make sure the Discoveror was still there and headed for the now repaired car.  
  
Claudia followed taking out her mobile.  
  
"I don't know how you do it." Nigel grumbled.  
  
"What can I say? I just love a man in uniform."  
  
"I thought his number would be '999'."  
  
"That's the emergency number, Nigel, even I know that."  
  
"You are an emergency, Claudia."  
  
"Oh, Nigel, that's sweet."  
  
"It wasn't a complement."  
  
"My aren't you grouchy in the morning. You're just jealous of my good looks and sunny personality."  
  
"I am not!"  
  
"Are too!" Still bickering Nigel and Claudia settled into the car.  
  
On the steps to the house Mrs Cameron and Sydney watched the others' antics fondly.  
  
"They are a good team."  
  
"The best." said Sydney. She turned to Mrs Cameron. "Thanks for everything. We couldn't have done it without you."  
  
"Och, I have a feeling you would have got there, with or without my help."  
  
"Syd!" Claudia yelled from the car, "I can get you flights to Cairo, but we have to be at Ardonen airport, like yesterday, if you are going to make the connections."  
  
"Better fly," Sydney smiled. They shook hands again and Sydney headed for the car.  
  
"Good Luck!" Mrs Cameron called as they drove away.  
  
***  
  
"Next."  
  
Troy shuffled up to the Custody Sergeant's Desk. "I want my phonecall and a doctor."  
  
The custody sergeant raised an eyebrow. "Let's get the formalities out of the way first. Name?"  
  
"Benjamin Troy." Troy growled.  
  
"Address?"  
  
"Hotel Bellevue, Montmatre, Paris."  
  
"You're a long way from home."  
  
"I get around." Troy said sourly.  
  
"All right, Terry, what's the charges?"  
  
Constable Partridge stepped forward and consulted his note-book. "'Breach of the Peace', 'Criminal Damage', 'Grievous Bodily Harm', 'Assault with intent to harm', 'Assault with a deadly weapon' and, saving the best for last, 'Attempted Murder'."  
  
The custody sergeant continued his furious scribbling on the charge sheet. "You get around - and you've been busy." He sat back with a sigh. "You have the right to legal representation. If you cannot afford legal representation you can have a court appointed solicitor. Here is a leaflet detailing your rights while in custody..." Troy raised an eyebrow. The times when he had been stupid enough to get caught his main worry had been facing a firing squad in the morning, not whether or not he could have a hot breakfast. "...Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?" Troy nodded. "Sign here, please. Okay, Terry, Number 4."  
  
"Hey! What about my phonecall?" They reached the celldoor and the Sergeant unlocked it. "And the Doctor!" Troy continued.  
  
"Doctor?"  
  
Young Constable Partridge was mortified to discover that he was beginning to blush. "Um, you see, Sarge, um, during Mr Troy's attack on a young lady..."  
  
"She jumped me!"  
  
"...well she was forced to um, kick Mr Troy, on, or in the, erm..."  
  
Troy slapped his hand against his forehead and groaned. "Just get me a 'phone!" he demanded and stepped into the cell.  
  
***  
  
Neither Sydney, Nigel nor Claudia thought that they would sleep on the short flight back to London, it was hardly worth it for all the time they were in the air, so it came as a bit of a shock when they were woken by a smiling stewardess who informed them that they were on the final approach into Heathrow.  
  
"Already? We just got on board."  
  
"That was an hour ago, sir. You even slept through my safety demonstration."  
  
"I do apologise."  
  
The stewardess grinned. "Professor Fox?" she turned to Sydney. "You're going to have to hurry to make your flight to Cairo so we have a trolleycar standing by to take you and your companion to the departure gate."  
  
Sydney wiped the sleep from her eyes. "Thank you very much. Much appreciated."  
  
"Our pleasure. Thank you for flying with us." The stewardess turned to the next passengers.  
  
"Claudia, make a note, please. Any time we're flying in the UK, try to use this airline."  
  
"Sure."  
  
***  
  
Elliot Trevaylen snapped shut his mobile phone and sank back into the leather upholstery of his Rolls Royce with a disgusted snort.  
  
"Perkins, turn around. We have to go back to Heathrow." Trevaylen pursed his lips in thought as his steadfast driver carried out the instructions without question.   
  
The motorway signs sped past as Trevaylen considered his options.   
  
First, Trevaylen hit the speed-dial; "Forget about Troy. Find either Professor Sydney Fox or Nigel Bailey. One of them is carrying my package."   
  
Satisfied that the operatives he had left at the airport would not let him down Trevaylen contemplated Benjamin Troy's fate. *Prison is the only place he'd be safe from me.* he thought angrily. On the other hand... Troy did have the sense to admit when he'd been hood-winked. Fancy a professional like Troy being outdone by a mere researcher!   
  
Trevaylen smirked to himself. Troy could live; for now. Besides, Trevaylen now knew that there was someone even better than Troy for finding ancient relics.  
  
***  
  
Sydney and Nigel had taken turns at trying to decipher the clues to the secret of the Discoveror's true resting place but with little success. Both agreed that the most likely location was the Great Pyramid of Khufu; the pyramid had been completed around the time that Scota had married her Celtic king and Khufu did have a daughter named 'Scota'. But they still had no plan of action. They could hardly march up to one of the largest structures in the world and start tapping on the walls for secret entrances.  
  
Sydney paged through their notes for the umpteenth time, a small frown creasing her forehead. She glanced across at Nigel, sleeping in the seat next to her with the airline earphones in place. She wondered what it was that he had fallen asleep listening to and was not surprised to find that the program was a Discovery Channel special on - Ancient Egypt. She almost reached out to turn it off, but then she changed her mind. Perhaps the answer they were looking for would come to Nigel in his dreams.  
  
***  
  
Nigel could not sleep. His eyes were closed but his mind was whirling with the pieces of the jigsaw and it point blank refused to shut down, despite his exhaustion. Now he listened to the program with half an ear while he tried to put the puzzle together.  
  
Suddenly something on the program caught his attention. He creaked open an eye and gazed at the miniature television screen set into the chairback in front of him.  
  
On the program an Egyptologist was explaining his theory of why the Great Pyramid was built where it was. According to his theory it was all to do with the position of the stars.  
  
Nigel sat bolt upright in his seat and clutched Sydney's arm.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"That's it!" Nigel whispered. He pulled out one of the earphones out and handed it to Sydney. "Listen to this!"  
  
Sydney warily pushed in the earphone and listened to the program. The Egyptologist explained that the ancient Egyptian builders had put in two ducts to the King's Chamber. In the Egyptologist's opinion this was done to match up to the stars so that the Pharaoh's soul could easily reach the heavens. A slow smile spread across Sydney's face.  
  
"'The light within the dark', Syd, remember! 'The light within the dark'!" Nigel's eyes were shining with excitement.  
  
Sydney nodded. "I think you've cracked it, Nigel."  
  
Impulsively they hugged, beginning to laugh quietly.   
  
***  
  
One of the advantages of being a multi-millionaire was having your own private jet. Elliot Trevaylen was not a man who liked sharing his space with anyone, nevermind waiting for commercial flights. His plane taxied to a smooth stop at Cairo International Airport and Trevaylen quickly disembarked into the warm air of a Cairo evening. A car was waiting for him and gratefully Trevaylen settled himself in its cool air-conditioned interior.  
  
***  
  
Sydney and Nigel had not bothered finding accommodation. While they had waited to pass through immigration control Nigel had been busy on the laptop computer. He had found that this night the stars would rise at 10.32pm. They did not have a lot of time to get to the pyramids, find the resting place and return the Discoveror.  
  
They sat on a coach, surrounded by smiling tourists of all nationalities, heading for the 'Son et Lumiere' show that was put on nightly at the Sphinx. At least this way they would look like regular visitors to the great necropolis of Giza.   
  
Neither of them were in a position to notice the expensive Cadillac which kept pace with them through the busy Cairo traffic.  
  
***  
  
The tourists left the coach and walked up the open path making their way to the seats which had been set up on a fold of the desert. Some of them stopped at the stalls which lined the path, determined to purchase some souvenir of the evening. Sydney halted beside one of the vendors with a cry.  
  
"Nigel! Look at that. What a wonderful piece!" She lifted up a large necklace strung with gleaming jewels.  
  
Nigel thought it was, possibly, one of the most hideous things he'd ever seen. It was obviously a modern copy of an ancient design, gaudy and not particularly well made. "You want to go shopping?" he asked in disbelief. "Now? For that?"  
  
"I must have it!" Sydney affirmed and started a long haggling procedure with the stall holder.  
  
Nigel shuffled his feet impatiently, anxiously checking his watch.   
  
At last Sydney was satisfied. The vendor wrapped the necklace and Sydney paid him. "Is there a restroom around here?" she enquired of the vendor.  
  
The vendor gestured off the path. "That way. Much quickness, madam. 'Son et Lumiere' is about to start."  
  
Sydney smiled her thanks and pulled on Nigel's arm. "Come on, Nigel. Like the man said, we don't want to miss the show!"  
  
For the first time, Nigel noticed that they were the last of the tourists. Most of the stall holders were already packing up their wares. They hurried over to a squat building and then checking that they were unobserved they ducked around the side.  
  
"There," Sydney whispered, "The less people that see us the better." She took out her purchase and dropped it in a trash can.  
  
"You don't want your necklace?"  
  
"Oh no. It's hideous." Sydney grinned and the two of them hurried into the darkness making for the giant pyramids.  
  
***  
  
Trevaylen stood stiffly gazing through a pair of high-powered binoculars. A movement near the base of the great pyramid caught his eye and he focused the glasses more closely. A cruel smile of satisfaction split his face. He lowered the binoculars and turned to his employees. "Are you ready?"  
  
The bodyguard finished attaching official looking flags to the front of the Cadillac. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Good. We have a surprise inspection of the site to do." He folded himself into the car.  
  
***  
  
Sydney and Nigel flattened themselves against the sand as a necropolis guard made a tour of the pyramid. He checked the entrance to the pyramid and finally headed away to the guard house.  
  
The relic hunters waited until he was out of sight before approaching the entrance. Quietly Sydney picked the lock and pulled aside the fence. They entered the pyramid closing the gate behind them.  
  
***  
  
The guard straightened as an official car pulled up. He recognised the flags of the Department of Antiquities and saluted as the driver got out.  
  
The driver passed over a document. "Professor Elliot to make an inspection of the site."  
  
The guard glanced down at the paper and started to unfold it. "I'm sorry, sir. I was not informed of the Professor's inspection."  
  
The driver punched out at the guard's chin and the guard's eyes turned up in his head. He toppled backwards into the sand. "I'm not surprised." The driver gripped the man's shoulders and dragged him behind the guardhouse. Then he returned to the car and drove up to the pyramid.  
  
Trevaylen got out of the car and patted his pocket, feeling the reassuring bulge of his revolver. "Wait here." he ordered and entered the pyramid. Now that he was this close he did not want to take the risk of losing the Discoveror to the hired help. The weapon would be enough to take care of Fox and Bailey.  
  
***  
  
Sydney and Nigel carefully picked their way up the steep gangway to the King's chamber.  
  
"What's the time?"  
  
Nigel checked his watch, "10.15."  
  
"We're going to have to hurry. The stars rise at 10.32, precisely."  
  
"I know, I know. We're nearly there."  
  
The two relic hunters increased their speed until at last they entered the King's Chamber of the Great Pyramid.  
  
For a moment they both paused playing their torches around the plain walls. Some might be disappointed at the lack of friezes or carvings, but to Sydney and Nigel the chamber represented everything that was mysterious and amazing about ancient Egypt. The precise measurements that had been made to ensure that the pyramid was correct, the incredible skills that had been used so that the structure would survive for eternity, the sheer scale of the building works, it all filled them with a sense of wonder which would never wane, no matter how many times they witnessed it.  
  
"We have to find the resting place." said Sydney shining her torch at the sandy floor.  
  
"It will be wherever the ducts meet on the floor."  
  
Sydney opened her pack and tossed a ball of string to Nigel. "Right, you take that side, I'll take this one. Remember to keep the string at the same angle as the duct, otherwise we'll be looking in the wrong place."  
  
"Got you." The relic hunters fanned out and each reached up to the duct openings. They tied off the string and then wound it out keeping it taught. They were so engrossed in their tasks that they jumped in surprise when they bumped into each other in the middle of the floor.  
  
"Pardon." Nigel said with a sheepish smile.  
  
Sydney grinned. "Here, hold this." She handed her string to Nigel and then knelt down to clear the sand away revealing the tightly fitted flagstones underneath. "Time?"  
  
"10.26."  
  
"I hope we're right about this," Sydney muttered.  
  
***  
  
Trevaylen panted as he climbed the gangway. Up ahead he could see lights moving around and hear the faint echoes of voices. Drawing on his reserves Trevaylen continued up, drawing his gun as he went.  
  
***  
  
Sydney and Nigel were both on their knees, feverishly tapping the stones.  
  
"Time?"  
  
Nigel glanced at his watch. "10.30. We're not going to make it are we?"  
  
"Yes we are!" Sydney's face lit up as she pressed down on the centre flagstone. There was a far-off click and then a strained grinding noise. The stone started to rise, rotating as it went, before shuddering to a halt. Sydney carefully removed the flagstone revealing a perfect square cut into the stone underneath. "Quickly, Nigel."  
  
Hurriedly Nigel unwrapped the Discoveror and gently placed it in its rightful place. He sat back on his heels with a sigh of relief.  
  
"What's the time now?" Sydney whispered.  
  
A moment later she had her answer.  
  
Two lines of brilliant white light stabbed down from the ducts striking the Discoveror. The chamber was filled with the light. Sydney and Nigel scrambled to their feet and gazed around in awe.  
  
"That's why the walls are plain." Nigel breathed. "This whole chamber is a giant cinema screen!"  
  
They gazed at the walls. The Discoveror was fuelled by the starlight, projecting all its knowledge on to the walls of the chamber in an explosion of colour and sparkle. One wall displayed star constellations, another showed the movements of the continents, the third was chemical molecules including the double helix of human DNA, the fourth was a moving tapestry of the history of Egypt.  
  
Sydney and Nigel clung to each other, stunned by the scenes that were unfolding. The images changed, showing plants, animals, the rise and fall of cities and civilisations.  
  
"It really is the 'key to all wisdom'!" Sydney whispered.  
  
And then it was over. The light from the ducts cut out as if a switch had been pulled. The Discoveror continued to glow for a few moments before that light too began to fade. The stone started to spin slowly and sink back into the floor.   
  
Together Sydney and Nigel lifted the concealing flagstone and placed it back in position. It settled into the floor and the relic hunters quietly brushed the sand back into place.  
  
"Rest safe." Nigel murmured. He looked up and caught Sydney's eyes, seeing his own wonder reflected in her's.  
  
"Wow. That was something you don't see every day." she said lightly.  
  
Nigel nodded, not having the words to express his feelings on the sight they had just witnessed. He knew too that Sydney was as overwhelmed as he was, her flippant tone was a mask to cover her respect for the spectacle.  
  
"Where is it?" a harsh voice intruded on the moment. Sydney and Nigel hustled to their feet as Trevaylen advanced into the chamber brandishing his revolver. "Where is it?" he demanded again. "I saw the light! I felt the power! Where is it? Where is the Discoveror?" his voice began to rise until he was almost screeching. "It's mine! I deserve it!"   
  
Warily Sydney and Nigel backed away. There would be no reasoning with the man. Trevaylen's eyes were gleaming with insanity and it was almost as if he had forgotten that they were there. He continued to rant as he dashed around the chamber.   
  
"The 'Curse of the Discoveror' seems to be still working." Sydney observed. Carefully they began to edge towards the doorway, but they pulled up short as they heard a heavy tramping on the gangway outside. "Re-enforcement's." Sydney whispered.  
  
"Yes. But for us or for him?"   
  
A squad of necropolis guards entered the chamber. The captain took one look at the raving Trevaylen and urged his men forward. It was not difficult for the burly guards to overpower the older man. When they had done so the captain turned to the intruders.  
  
"You are all under arrest!" he pompously announced.  
  
***  
  
Epilogue.  
  
Sydney tiredly unlocked the door to her office. She threw her ruck-sack on the floor by her desk, crossed to the couch in the corner and fell gratefully onto it.  
  
Nigel followed her in and sat beside her. "It's just as well you knew the Egyptian Minister for Antiquities," he said with a yawn, "Otherwise we would have had a lot more explaining to do."  
  
"Ahmed and I are old friends." Sydney replied. Nigel's yawning was infectious and Sydney tilted her head back with a sigh.  
  
"Trevaylen won't be going anywhere, will he?"  
  
"I'm sure Elliot Trevaylen will spend the rest of his days in the best padded cell his money can buy."  
  
"Good. He never did deserve the Discoveror, no matter what he might think." Nigel leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes.  
  
"Well I think we deserve a holiday. What do you say?"  
  
Nigel's answer was a soft snore. Sydney glanced over at him and smiled. She dropped her head back again and followed Nigel's example.  
  
***  
  
Claudia was suspicious when she found the office door unlocked, but her unease disappeared when she found Sydney and Nigel fast asleep on the couch. Quietly she found a blanket and gently covered them both. She could wait to hear all about their adventures.  
  
THE END.  
  
***  
Phew! Hope you enjoyed the story. Once again, Thank you to everyone who took the time to write. Your comments were very much appreciated and gave me the incentive to finish. 


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